


Potter Exposed

by mppmaraudergirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, No teacher/student relationship, Professor!James, Undercover Reporter!Lily
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 64,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29054655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mppmaraudergirl/pseuds/mppmaraudergirl
Summary: Lily Evans has been eagerly awaiting a promotion to reporter ever since she began working for the Daily Prophet. Now her first-ever assignment finds her undercover, posing as a seventh year Hogwarts student, set to discover some of the school's most thought-provoking secrets while juggling academia, making friends, staving off admirers, and getting to know her professors.
Comments: 185
Kudos: 75





	1. Forbidden Fruit

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter and everything related belongs first, and foremost, to JK Rowling, and then to her partnerships with Bloomsbury, Scholastics, Warner Bros., etc.
> 
> Potter Exposed is not a romance story. It does not romanticize the teacher/student relationship or that type of power dichotomy.

_Prologue_

When James Potter took a teaching post at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, to say his appointment was met with skepticism would have been an understatement. The professors, who had been his teachers just a few years previously, wondered if he would be focused enough; his friends wondered if he could be “adult enough” (Sirius wondered how many girls he might end up snogging); his mum wondered if he would be serious enough to handle school-aged children. James understood their concern, and it took a good two weeks to start answering to “Professor Potter”, but he had confidence in his ability. And he proved himself correct.

So now James – Professor Potter – at the ripe age of twenty-two was, in his mind, a seasoned veteran embarking on his third year of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. His mind was at ease as he watched students file into the Great Hall for the welcoming feast. He was more than familiar with the group of students, most of whom had been there for the past two years. Even with undergoing the changes that come with adolescence – growth spurts, puberty-induced acne, and various, sometimes outlandish, hairstyles – he had no trouble recognizing them all. He watched on, fiddling with the empty goblet in front of him, only barely registering an unfamiliar flash of red.

Across the hall, trudging through the threshold, was a red-haired seventh year called Lily Evans. She did her best impression of being at ease, while in reality, she felt extremely uncomfortable: the uniform felt restrictive, and the children walking at a snail’s pace in front of her were so _small_. The castle was beautiful, of course, as she was assured it would be. But she was still having a difficult time envisioning living in it for the next year. When she graduated from Beauxbatons Academy over four years ago she never would’ve imagined being back in school. But here she was, at twenty-two, posing as a seventeen-year-old in order to complete her Hogwarts-exposé assignment for the _Daily Prophet_.

She had been eagerly awaiting a promotion to reporter ever since she moved to London and began working for the _Daily Prophet_. And it took years for her to get there. Her editor Caradoc Dearborn knew she was the perfect candidate to take on an article that the Editor-in-Chief Amelia Bones had been wanting to explore for years. The daunting part of exploring this particular exposé was finding a reporter who had never gone to Hogwarts and who looked young enough to be of school age. Lily fit the bill perfectly, enrolled as a “home-schooled” witch now entering her final year of schooling, and found herself shopping for robes, potion supplies, and textbooks. Amid all her schoolwork, she was set to uncover some of Hogwarts’ most thought-provoking secrets to share with the wizarding world.

  
*****

  
  


_Chapter 1: Forbidden Fruit_

_Lily,_

_Good luck on your first last day of school. They grow up so fast…_

_Caradoc_

***

Lily awoke on her first day of seventh year much more disoriented than she had on her _first_ first day of seventh year. She had spent a good portion of the night before settling into her new dormitory, mostly a quiet spectator as the other Gryffindor girls regaled each other on the events of their summer. She was more than happy to be a silent observer to it all, but before long they included her in a kind but detached way, asking things like where she was from and why she had only started at Hogwarts as a seventh year. She drifted off to sleep easily, mentally exhausted from the day of travel, after cracking open her notebook to jot down some important takeaways from the day.

When she awoke, however, it took her longer to orient herself with her surroundings than she would have expected. The crimson sheets around her four-poster were nothing like the deep green bedclothes that were on her currently unused bed in her currently unoccupied flat. Voices from the other girls in the dorm washed over her, as quick and effective as a freezing cold shower in reminding her where she was and _why_.

Inexplicably, Lily still found herself nervous as she entered her first class. Loath she was to admit it, this particular reaction was reminiscent of her first day of school at Beauxbatons Academy. Friendless, uncertain, unqualified to be there. She sat down in the third row of seats, pensively shifting through her textbook as students poured into the classroom. At the sound of an authoritative voice, her head snapped up.

“Good morning,” Professor Potter said, bounding into the classroom with seemingly endless energy. His robes were immaculate even as they swung behind him in his stride. It was a harsh contrast from his hair, which stuck in different directions including directly up in the back, and his glasses which she noticed sat slightly tilted on his nose. He seemed to make no attempt to remedy either of these disheveled qualities which Lily found curious. “Welcome back, welcome back. Stebbins, Fawcett.” He nodded to a few students as he reached his desk. “And I believe we have a new student to introduce. Miss… Lily Evans.”

His eyes found her as she meekly rose from her chair.

“Good morning,” she said, kindly.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Professor Potter said clinically. “I would ask you to share a little bit about yourself but I’m certain you’ll all get to know her well enough without it. And besides, we’ve got enough to work on, if you’d have a seat, Miss Evans.” He leaned back, sitting precariously at the edge of his desk, and folded his arms across his chest. Lily fell to her seat, slightly taken aback. “I won’t drone on about the upcoming NEWTs this year. I’m sure you all have already grown tired of the constant reminder. But I also will not downplay their importance.”

He paused, whether for dramatic effect or to scrutinize his class, Lily wasn’t sure. “Now I don’t expect you all to be interested in pursuing a career as an Auror, or in the Department of Law Enforcement, or any sect of the Ministry that highly focuses on Defense. But that doesn’t mean earning an Outstanding score on your Defense NEWT won’t benefit you in the long run.”

A girl in the front row raised her hand eagerly, and Professor Potter gave her a borderline-contemptuous look through his rectangular-framed glasses before continuing. “This isn’t Career Advice, Miss Abbott. Professor Flitwick should have conducted those sessions with you two years ago.”

Lily had to make sure her mouth was closed. She looked around and was surprised to see no one else seemed to consider Professor Potter’s attitude out of the ordinary.

“Now we will be reviewing nonverbal defensive charms exclusively over the first three weeks of term as a warm-up. Then we will begin to focus on some of the more crucial defensive spells. Every other week there will be five questions assigned which you will answer as though you are sitting for your NEWT written exam. Open your books to page 5 and get out your wands…”

_Why did I ever agree to this?_ Lily found herself wondering as she flipped through her textbook.

***

The rest of Lily’s first week and the next week after went by with little consequence. Despite having learned most of the material throughout her education, it turned out she hadn’t improved much in Arithmancy. Though she did well enough in Charms and excelled in Potions class so much that the professor already knew her name and greeted her boisterously whenever they crossed paths in the hall. Professor Potter was the youngest professor by a large margin, but his lectures were strict and succinct, and he pushed his students more than any other professor.

The upside was Lily made a pair of friends quickly as she and her dorm mates started talking more. Mary Macdonald, a petite brunette, was another seventh year Gryffindor. She was kind, if not a little flighty, and she was the first to warm to Lily. Another girl in their dorm, Marlene McKinnon, as tall and fair as her friend was petite and dark, befriended her after, and Lily found herself amid the drama of seventeen-year-old girls for the second (and hopefully last) time in her life.

Lily felt so overwhelmed with schoolwork and the new social relationships she was building that her writing assignment fell from her mind. By the time she received her third letter from Caradoc checking in on her progress – it had simply said “ _Well?_ ” without greeting or sign-off – during the third week of term, she started to worry her lack of progress was going to get her into trouble. She knew she couldn’t botch her first reporting assignment if she wanted to keep her new position.

Thus, she found herself spending a Friday evening alone in the library, finishing up her Charms essay between brainstorming story ideas and penning a letter to Caradoc. For as much as Caradoc insisted she produce a concrete idea, he did very little to help her get there. He claimed it was because he was a Hogwarts alumnus and her fresh perspective should be the driving force behind her story, but she still wished he would offer some hint as to what he was looking for. Finally, she decided that her best inspiration would come when she wasn’t staring at a Charms textbook and she stood up.

She found her feet carrying her through the tall stacks of books, around the edge of the library past the watchful eye of the librarian. Lily had seen students traipsing in and out of this side of the library consistently over the two hours she had been here. She suspected the students had been given permission, but she couldn’t help but wonder how easy it was to sneak into the Restricted Section. Ideas were swarming wildly in her mind as she tiptoed around to the corner where the section began. What kind of school carried books in a Restricted Section? And why would they teach such things?

“Looking for something, Miss Evans?” a voice behind her asked.

With her hand just inches away from the rope, she jumped. “Pr-professor!”

“Sneaking into the Restricted Section, Miss Evans? _Most_ seventh years are cleverer than that,” Professor Potter said. His face was unreadable. Before she could stutter out any semblance of a reply, he continued. “There is no logical reason to attempt to sneak into the Restricted Section on a Friday evening when there are three other students here. It is very easy to draw attention to yourself when the library is so empty.”

“I—I wasn’t—!”

“Is everything all right over here, Professor?”

Madam Pince, the librarian, swooped into view, staring between the pair. She eyed them – _both_ – suspiciously with large, unblinking eyes. Professor Potter seemed to either not notice or not care.

“Everything is fine, Madam,” he told her respectfully. “Miss Evans was inquiring about the Restricted Section and I was telling her about the regulations. She’s new to Hogwarts this year, you see.”

The librarian said nothing as she walked away but still eyed the professor doubtfully. Lily waited until she was gone before looking at him.

“Well,” she began, not knowing what to say, “she doesn’t like you very much, does she, Professor?”

This was clearly not what he was expecting to hear, a look of shocked amusement passing over his face so quickly that she thought she might have imagined it. “I don’t suppose she does. I spent a fair amount of time here in my youth, and there were many days she suspected my mates and I were up to something.”

“Big trouble-makers you must’ve been, holed up in the library. Did you put your books back on the wrong shelves? Not return them on time? Did you create elaborate plots to nick them, with code-names to boot?” she said before she could help herself. Her brain chastised: _you are his student, not his equal!_ She had deduced they were about the same age, but to him, she was seventeen. “I’m sorry… that was… inappropriate. I’m not entirely used to having a proper teacher…”

He cleared his throat but didn’t say anything at first. Lips taut, his eyes looked beyond her to the second shelf on the left where, unbeknown to her, he and his friends’ nicknames had been carved by their fifteen-year-old selves. “You’d better get back to your common room, Miss Evans. It’ll be after hours soon.”

“Yes, Professor,” Lily agreed. “Thank you.”

He watched as she marched back down through the library, to the table to collect her things, and he did not leave until she had already gone.

By the time he reached his office, his pocket was buzzing. The small two-way mirror in his pocket showed the face of a good-looking, dark-haired man called Sirius Black.

“Hello Padfoot,” he greeted, walking straight through his classroom and up the short stairwell into his study.

“’Lo Prongs. Thought you were going to mirror me after dinner. You haven’t told me when the first Hogsmeade weekend is yet.”

“For the thousandth time, Padfoot, I am a teacher. I don’t need permission to meet you in Hogsmeade.”

James could practically see Sirius waving his hand as he ignored this trivial fact. “I like to go when all the students will be there. Plus, you know I am trying to get Minnie to let me buy her a brandy.” James ignored this fact, wishing he did not know it, as Sirius carried on. “What kept you anyway? Busy putting students into detentions for things you have done yourself?”

James smirked a little at this, sitting down at a small mahogany desk. “Not quite. We have a new seventh year Gryffindor this year. I saw her heading toward the Restricted Section and she looked like she was going to try to sneak into it.”

“She tried that this late on a Friday evening? Bet there weren’t more than five students there. Amateur mistake. You have to wait until exam time at least.”

“That’s what I said,” James said, and Sirius laughed. “She said she wasn’t sneaking but then Pince showed up and I covered for her anyway.”

“They still aren’t allowing seventh years in the Restricted Section? Are they still calling that the Potter Rule?”

James grinned despite himself. “Not that I’ve heard. I don’t think many students still here know about it. They must have forced Mulciber to keep his mouth shut. Maybe they’ll relax the restrictions again in a few years.”

“You should ask Pince about it, sure she would love to hear your suggestions,” Sirius snickered.

“She wouldn’t listen to me if I were the last wizard on earth,” James said. “She made that quite clear tonight, even with the student there.”

“She’s never tried to hide it,” Sirius agreed. “Anyway, about Hogsmeade.”

“I’ll let you know when I know the date, Padfoot. As for now, I’m going to bed.”

Once Sirius vanished, James stifled a yawn as he reached for his desk drawer. Inside he found a battered piece of parchment which he carefully unfolded. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” he lied.

The map burst to life and his eyes lazily skimmed, looking for anyone out of bed who shouldn’t have been. It was a tame night, though. One of the only dots still out was Lily Evans, and it was just down the corridor from the Fat Lady’s portrait. His eyes lingered on the dot for only a moment longer. Then, satisfied, he wiped the map clean, tucked it carefully out of sight in the desk drawer, and turned on his wireless.

It was already set to the channel necessary to hear the latest Quidditch league scores. He waited patiently for the recap and stats line for the latest Puddlemere United match. Once again, they had won, though barely. Their point differential for the season was abysmal. Even though they were catching the snitch every match, they were so far behind in goals-allowed that instead of extending victory far beyond the 150 points from the snitch, they were often only winning by 20-40 points, which James knew was hardly winning at all. James listened, knowing their game earlier that day against the Tornados had been no different. Not for the first time did he wonder if the Puddlemere Keeper Wilkes had some damning piece of blackmail on the team ownership. He couldn’t fathom what else had kept the Keeper employed for so long.

James eyed his wireless, only half paying attention to the reports he was hearing. The wireless had served him well but he got it the summer before his seventh year and felt it was probably time for an upgrade. The latest models came equipped with a larger range, meaning he might be able to hear broadcasts from across Europe. Better yet, it also came with an automatic translation spell on it so he would be able to listen to any game in English no matter the original broadcast language. He made a mental note to pick a new model up, as a celebration of starting his third year of teaching, the next time he visited the village. His thoughts cut short as the Puddlemere report finally came on. It was just as he expected to hear sadly, raising his annoyance level despite their victory.

He sighed, leaning over to turn off the wireless once the report had concluded, before throwing another look at his watch. The hour wasn’t too late yet, and he had a strong craving for something sweet. Rising and pulling his cloak back over his shoulders, he allowed the craving to drive him through the castle and down toward the kitchens. Torches lined the corridors as he trotted along with the comfortable familiarity of someone who had spent much time out of bed in his youth – something he remembered fondly but did not speak about often. His walk proved uneventful as he entered the Entrance Hall, but unusually, light splayed across the floor of the hall from the Staffroom. He made his way there, momentarily forgetting about the kitchens. Thankfully he found only professors inside as he slowly pushed the door open further.

“James, m’boy!” Professor Slughorn greeted, from behind a glass that James could only assume was Dragon Barrel Brandy.

“Evening,” he said, before walking into the room. He had not intended to stay. “Sorry to interrupt. Saw the door ajar and thought it was worth a look to ensure no one was out-of-bounds.”

Professor Slughorn chortled. Even Professor McGonagall failed to hide a smile from her face at these words, apparently incited by Slughorn’s laughter. Professor Flitwick at least had the decency to play his laugh off as a cough.

James took it all in stride. He had no other choice. “You seem to forget I was Head Boy, Horace.” This only prompted further laughter from Slughorn, who gestured at his brandy. James nodded his ascent and gratefully accepted the small glass thrust into his hand. “Thanks. Makes for an interesting staff meeting, this does.” He settled himself into the chair next to Slughorn, melting into it as he took a large sip. “By all means, carry on with where you were before I interrupted.”

He fully intended to be a passive observer of the conversation. There was always the opportunity to learn from the more seasoned professors even in their most casual conversations.

“We were simply discussing how classes have gone so far. As expected, most students were off to a slow start,” said Flitwick.

“Except for Lily Evans.”

This intrigued James slightly. His mind went back to seeing her by the Restricted Section and he covered his laugh as he took another sip of his brandy.

“An exceptional talent,” Professor McGonagall said, nodding. “She is very much a success story for the wizarding home school community. Fits right in with the other students, and thus far is a step above her classmates in her skill level.”

Professor Flitwick nodded. “She correctly completed all of the charms performed during our nonverbal assignment today on the first attempt. They must have put a large emphasis on nonverbal.”

“She acts as though she has been performing nonverbal magic for _years_.”

“Incredible aptitude in Potions as well,” Professor Slughorn said, pouring himself a little more brandy before continuing. “Brewed a perfect Memory Potion on her first attempt. Granted it was a review from the year six curriculum, but she was the only student in the class who got it right. She’s now well on her way to brewing a perfect batch of Veritaserum.”

James, who had been just above mediocre at Potions, found this particularly impressive. Before this conversation, he hadn’t noticed how well she was doing compared to her classmates. He tried to remain neutral among students to avoid any perceived - or actual - favoritism toward his old house. He prided himself on giving credit where due and turning his focus more closely to students who struggled. Despite Lily being a new student, he couldn’t recall giving her much thought at all which must have meant she was doing well enough in his class.

“Rather fortunate,” said Professor Flitwick, “that she is so gifted in many subjects. Without access to her previous educational background, it would have been terribly difficult to create an educational plan to suit her if she had struggled to adjust.”

“We can’t access her previous educational background?” James said before noticing that his drink was empty.

“No, we cannot. More secrecy, it appears, between schools. France requires concealment of student records and that protection extends to even those home-schooled while living in France.”

“What do we have to go on about her enrollment, then?” James asked, politely waving Slughorn away as he offered the brandy bottle. “Just her word? How could we enroll her in NEWT level courses without having a background on how she performed on previous exams, like whatever equivalent to OWLs she should have taken in year five?”

Professor McGonagall’s lips pursed as though she was thinking, but it only lasted a moment. “In these very rare cases, the student is required to submit an application and interview with the Headmaster if he so chooses it necessary. Professor Dumbledore did not feel the need to divulge what type of examination he deemed necessary to evaluate her educational level. In any case, I’m doubtful many students are lining up to enroll in classes they are not capable of performing in.”

“Interesting,” he said, rising to his feet. It seemed unorthodox to not have any level of protocol in place for such instances. But then he thought there was really, very rarely a need for this. Most students enrolled at Hogwarts from age eleven. Miss Evans had unusual circumstances, and that was that. “Well, I’m off to the kitchens for a quick bite before bed. Thank you for the drink and pleasant ‘staff meeting’.”

***

September grew cooler, and Lily was nowhere closer to having a story. She did have mounds of information, however. She had distinguished class schedules, explored the grounds, learned the names of most students she saw regularly, and even found her way to the groundskeeper’s hut for tea. She was hopeful among these notes, there was an angle. 

The growing level of homework that was expected of seventh years was doing little to help her cause, though it certainly did allow her more time to bond with her dorm mates. Numerous hours together pouring over textbooks and practicing charms (charms which Lily happened to already have been doing for years) had strengthened their friendship, and Lily internally was very happy to have been accepted by Mary and Marlene. In part, because she genuinely liked them, and also because they were extra eyes and ears which she knew may prove helpful to her one day.

On the fourth Saturday of term, Lily found herself being dragged down to the grounds by her newest friends. It was quite a nice day, she would admit, as she bared her feet and slid them into the lake, but she had hoped to make some headway on her potential exposé topic. Her focus had fallen to the house-elf population employed by Hogwarts. It had to be one of the largest in Britain and she heard rumors that Professor Dumbledore was considering wages to a particularly overzealous house-elf that worked in the kitchens. This seemed like the perfect day to try to sneak down and find them. But her dorm mates, and new friends, had other ideas.

Nevertheless, she was resolved to finding the first opportunity to head back into the castle. It only took two hours for the opportunity to arise in the form of Professor Potter ambling across the grounds.

“Must’ve been to Hogsmeade,” Mary said sagely. Lily could tell she was contemplating waving to get his attention, but it appeared the general path leading from the gates would cause him to walk near them.

“Hello Professor,” Marlene called, once Lily’s inclination was proved correct.

“Good afternoon,” Professor Potter said. He fixed his eyes on their faces – and not on their exposed legs which were splayed in the water. His eyes passed over them for only the smallest of moments when Lily kicked the water enough to send ripples over to a large tentacle that returned them. She shaded her eyes from the high sun and didn’t turn as he approached them.

“Come from Hogsmeade, Professor?”

He nodded.

“I don’t understand why they don’t let seventh years come and go from Hogsmeade as they please,” Marlene mused, though she looked at him as she said it.

“I agree. We _are_ of age!”

“You won’t be considered full wizards by most until you have completed your education,” Professor Potter told them, his voice authoritative.

“Well then maybe we could just go if a professor is going.”

“Or we could just go,” Marlene said, brazenly. “It’s not as if it’s never happened. You went all the time in seventh year, didn’t you Professor?”

He was saved from lying by Mary’s next suggestion: “Professor permission should be enough, don’t you think? Instead of House Points, award us an afternoon in the village.”

He cleared his throat. He could tell by the way they were starting to look at him that they were quickly spiraling out of control. Lily appeared to be paying only the slightest amount of attention.

“Unfortunately, that would be up to your Head of House – as it stands, Professor McGonagall. Shall I mention to her you two would like to make a few suggestions on how she manages her house?” The girls blanched, shaking their heads fervently. He stifled his laugh. If sixteen-year-old James could see him now. “I expected not. Well, I must be heading inside to grade some essays. Enjoy your afternoon.”

“Professor!” Lily said, suddenly turning her attention from the lake. “Do you have a moment to discuss our most recent homework? I can walk with you up to the castle so you needn’t be kept from your work.”

“Certainly,” he obliged.

She rose, waving her wand to dry her feet, before slipping back into her sneakers.

After hearing the other professors’ commentary on her aptitude, this simple, quick, and _nonverbal_ drying spell drew his attention.

“See you at dinner?”

“Okay.”

“Bye!”

She ignored their shared grins as she walked across the grounds at Professor Potter’s side. Once they got out of earshot, he turned to her expectantly.

“What is it you wanted to discuss, Miss Evans?”

“I lied,” she said, unabashed. “I needed an excuse to escape them and come inside.”

He hid his amusement as he [exhaled a: “Oh. Is that so?”

She laughed a little. “Sorry. It’s just so difficult to get any time alone at a school like this.”

“Yes. I know what you mean. I’m an only child – well, I was when I arrived here as a first year. Needless to say, I was not used to having to share things.”

“I can imagine. I was home-schooled, as you may know. Kind of used to going at my own pace.”

“That is quite the adjustment – especially having to live with all those girls.”

Lily nodded, then retracted. “I like them, Professor. But they can get a little over the top. Especially when ‘round their crushes – well, I’m sure I don’t need to tell _you_ about that.”

He considered her for a moment but said nothing.

“You must be used to it to a degree? Girls having crushes on you. Young, good-looking Professor.”

She was trying to lead him, break through the barriers he set up. Maybe there was a story _here_.

“Not sure I understand what you mean, Miss Evans.” Alarm bells rang in his head.

“Nothing bad,” she assured, the entrance to the castle growing larger with every stride. “Just – I get the impression they have crushes on you.”

He could have laughed from relief. Not that he expected her to… well, he had no expectations, he knew. “Ah. Well, I remember them from my time at school. Miss McKinnon’s brother was actually the year ahead of me. It’s difficult to get worked up about school-girl crushes when you have known the girls as eight-year-olds.”

James was well aware of the effect he often had on people, particularly the opposite sex. He became aware of it at the age of fourteen and had been keen to use it to his advantage since. A quick quip, a tousled look, a slight smirk - all things that proved effective to either absolve him of punishment for wrongdoings or get him a date to Hogsmeade weekend. He - and Sirius, really - had a natural ability to make people laugh and they found girls during their time at school were particularly susceptible to laughing at whatever they said, whether childish and inane or carefully crafted comedy gold (most times they only needed the former). It was easy for him to give off the wrong impression with his humor. He knew coming back as a Professor, he would need to reel in his easy, flirting personality.

Not that any of these girls were enticing - or had ever been. But he knew it could send the wrong message, and the last thing he needed or wanted was an obsessed fifth year writing his name with hearts on her homework. There were numerous reasons they repelled him, of course, and any one thing should have been enough, but he clung to them all. Apart from its obvious impropriety, he remembered these girls from his own time at school, young and more immature than now even. Some carried on with that level of maturity still. He was beyond the point of caring about gossip in and outside the school. His focus had long since shifted to real world issues - like the current state of the world, the rising _blood-purity_ issues championed by newly emergent, fringe political groups, and the most recent bout of prejudiced legislation that was being debated at the Ministry that would unfairly impact someone he cared deeply about.

He found his lack of interest carried on even after their Hogwarts years. For the past two summers following term, he just _happened_ to run into a past student or two in Hogsmeade, now eighteen or nineteen and certainly not in his charge any longer. But even as they spoke to him, his mind replayed moments from their time at Hogwarts like the grossly exaggerated Muggle films Remus had forced him to watch over the summer. While _Emily_ flirted, all he could think about is how poorly she did on her Defense NEWT practical exam. When _Elizabeth_ offered to buy him a drink, all he thought of was her blow up fight in the Great Hall with an old boyfriend who hadn’t noticed she’d had a haircut over the holiday. When _Jennifer_ casually reached out to touch his hand, all he could think about was the time he caught her passing notes in the middle of the Transfiguration exam he was proctoring which led to a lengthy suspension and her nearly failing the class.

It was entirely unjustified, and sometimes menial events compared to some of the things he and his friends had gotten into when they were in school. But it remained a line in the sand, and he found it didn’t bother him. He was young yet, and certainly not looking for love in any recent graduates.

He found himself brought back out of his thoughts as he entered the Entrance Hall. They had both stopped walking, neither continuing to the grand staircase. She would use the stairs to head to Gryffindor Tower and he would climb the stairs to get to the second floor where his office was. That was, if either were planning to go where they said they were.

“Well, I will be heading this way,” he said, gesturing to the door off the Entrance Hall. Her face gave her away and he prompted: “You as well, Miss Evans? Sneaking to the Hufflepuff Common Room, are you?”

She shook her head, making a mental note about the Hufflepuff house location. “Err, no actually.” She cleared her throat sheepishly and lowered her voice as more students began walking through the hall. “I actually wanted to go to the kitchens…which I heard were down there.”

Now he blanched but recovered very quickly. “Want an early dinner?”

She shook her head. “It’s… silly, really. I actually wanted to see … the house-elves. I’ve heard there is a great deal of them here. I’ve never seen one, and I heard you wouldn’t see them in the castle, just the kitchens. So, I thought I could just pop down there for a moment.”

He looked at her curiously for a moment. This was a new one he hadn’t heard before - sneaking to the kitchen to visit the house-elves?

But there was no harm in showing her them.

“Well, as a matter of fact, that is exactly where I was planning to go. And I suppose you can come along to see the house-elves.”

“Really? That would be great.” As she never intended to sit down and interview the house-elves (if such a thing could even be done), she couldn’t see how his presence would prevent her from accomplishing her goal. She happily strode along with him down the small stairwell leading to the kitchens.

They continued in silence as they walked until they came to a corridor that was barely wide enough for two people to walk side-by-side. Professor Potter lingered, motioning her to go ahead of him, but she remained rooted.

“Er—not sure where to go,” she told him.

“Oh right,” he said, with a slight shake of his head. “I’ll lead then.”

He strode forward once more and she followed two steps behind, nearly running into him when he slowed as they entered a larger corridor, much broader than the one they had come from. Food paintings lined the walls and she followed him to one with a large fruit bowl. Before she could even question him, he reached out and ran his fingers along the painted pear, and a handle appeared.

“That’s interesting,” she said casually as if it were a completely ordinary occurrence to tickle fruit. She thought she heard a small laugh as he pulled the portrait open.

Inside she was met with a huge kitchen, nearly a replica of the Great Hall, filled with numerous house-elves scurrying around from place to place, in various states of preparing food and cleaning dishes. It was only when Professor Potter turned to look at her that she realized her mouth was hanging open.

“After you,” he said, amusement in his voice as he motioned her forward.

She crossed the threshold timidly and was immediately met by three house-elves. She could hardly understand their questions over their layered voices and the general bustle of the room. Nevertheless, she allowed them to lead her further into the room, passing the stoves as they went.

He found himself leaning against the wall next to the portrait hole and watching.

“Can we get Miss anything?”

“Oh, no, no thank you. I was just stopping by—”

“But is Miss hungry?”

“I’m okay, really. Thank you. I don’t mean to be a bother—”

“Miss isn’t a bother!”

“Oh no, Miss!”

“Pinky, plate some of that delicious fudge you made for me for Miss Evans, would you?” he called to the house-elf closest to Lily. Pinky jumped at being addressed and quickly pattered away from Lily back past the stoves.

“Oh yes, of course, Mister James. Should Pinky plate some for Mister James also?”

‘Mister James’ Lily mouthed curiously at no one in particular. Professor Potter’s lips curled up, bemused. “That would be delightful. Thank you, Pinky.”

A moment later they were shepherded to a small table to the side of the four long tables, with the fudge between them.

“For Mister James and his _friend_ Miss—”

Lily paused, “Erm. I’m Lily, and we… we’re not…”

“Lily Evans is the newest Gryffindor seventh year,” Professor Potter supplied easily.

Despite years of working at Hogwarts, the intricacies of human relationships were not well understood among the house-elves. Pinky and her fellow elves simply bowed in response and, after assurance from Professor Potter that nothing further was needed, went back to preparing for dinner.

“'Mister James’,” Lily repeated after they had gone, taking a small bite of fudge as she did so. “Seems to imply you visited this place often before there was a ‘Professor’ added to your name.”

“Seems you are pretty perceptive,” Professor Potter said, already through one of his own pieces of fudge. He bit back a smile by biting another piece. “I…erm… occasionally visited as a student. There is nothing explicitly stated in the school rules to prohibit students from coming here, I’ll have you know.”

“And I bet you didn’t discover that until you were a Professor? Surely that would have taken some of the thrill of it all away as a student?”

She didn’t quite know what to make of the curious look he was giving her. It was as if he were studying her, trying to understand her.

“You’ve got a really inquisitive mind about you, Miss Evans. The sort of thing that might get you into trouble with some people.”

“And with you?”

“Remains to be seen, I suppose.” Lily’s only answer was a laugh, finishing her second piece of fudge before wiping her hands. “Not a fan of sweets?”

“Too much a fan, if I’m to be honest. Everything in moderation, right?” she said. He gave a noncommittal hmm as he looked down at his plate. Lily’s eyes went back to reviewing the enormous room. “So… the tables match the Great Hall above, and that is how they serve meals, isn’t it?”

“Indeed.”

“Very interesting.” She watched the house-elves for a few minutes in silence. He tried not to watch her. “They seem happy.”

This comment carried his eyes around the room. “This is the life they know.”

“There’s a distinction there. It’s subtle but important.”

He continued to study her. “You don’t like it?” he guessed.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. Her thoughts were swirling around in her head. She was old enough to understand that the ideals she grew up with, as a Muggleborn, didn’t always or exactly translate to the wizarding world.

“It’s said that house-elves have been employed at Hogwarts from its creation, with Helga Hufflepuff - namesake and founder of Hufflepuff house, of course - herself bringing them in. Helga wanted to assure them safe working conditions…even if that’s all she could really do for them.”

Lily pursed her lips at this lesson. “So, the chance of… wages or—or holidays is…?”

He laughed, and her eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… ahem. No, I believe I can say with certainty that none of these house-elves would ask for those, nor accept them if offered. This is… their life.”

“ _You_ like it? Have you ever _employed_ a house-elf, Professor?” _Owned_ was at the tip of her tongue.

“I… grew up with a house-elf, yes. Her name was Eddy and I cared about her very much. To date, no one has ever made better fudge than Eddy, though Pinky comes close.” He studied her again, as she did to him. It was an odd dance they seemed to be doing, but unable to stop. “It’s not so much about liking it, Miss Evans. Sometimes we show our true colors by accepting things people – or in this case, house-elves – ask us to.”

“And other times, we show our true colors by showing people the life they accept for themselves is one lesser than they deserve.”

He nodded to her in acquiesce, but still looked solemnly around at the house-elves. “And in some, hopefully rare, cases, there is no right answer. Only a shite reality we must find peace in.”

She threw another piece of fudge in her mouth as a means of biting her tongue. But she found as she chewed, she could not help herself. “But we must take a stand against it at some point, mustn’t we? Otherwise, we end up with proposed laws like the most recent from that horrible hag Umbridge.”

Professor Potter’s face turned sharply back to her, his eyes narrowing, and jaw set angrily. For a moment she thought he was going to explode at her, call her a child, tell her she was stupid, and still had so much to learn. Instead, he carefully bit out: “I ripped my copy of the _Prophet_ in half yesterday when I read about _that_ particular bit of dragon dung.”

His tone only incited her further. “And to name it ‘The Wizard Protection Act’ is an insult to our intelligence. It’s dangerous, discriminatory drivel meant to dehumanize a subset of the wizarding community.”

“Half-breeds, she calls them,” he said scathingly.

“We are worse off as a society for people like Umbridge.”

“I could not agree with you more. And—” But he cut himself off as Pinky came walking over with two small boxes in her hands.

“How did Mister James like the fudge?” Pinky asked.

“I _loved_ it,” he said, with such genuine ferocity in his voice still from their interrupted conversation. But he looked kindly at the elf.

Lily could see Pinky’s eyes welling up. “Oh, thank you, Mister James! Pinky has worked hard on the recipe from Mister James’ Eddy. Pinky has also brought boxes for Mister James and Miss Lily to take more with them.”

“Thank you, Pinky. Very much.”

But Pinky thanked him in response as she pressed the boxes into their hands before bowing and walking away.

“I had better get to those papers I should have already been grading,” he told Lily, standing up. “I hope you found your trip to the Hogwarts kitchen…educational. Dinner will be starting soon in any case. You may want to head up to the Great Hall if that fudge didn’t ruin your appetite.”

Lily half-smiled at this. “Thank you, Professor. I won’t stay much longer.”

He nodded, turning on his heel and marching away. She only rose when the portrait hole snapped closed behind him. He had given her a lot to think about, she mused as she watched the scene unfold before her – house-elves placing the dinner entrees in their corresponding places on each house table. If anything was clear to her, and not much was, this particular exposé-lead was not fit to be the angle of her story. She made a point to thank Pinky one more time before she left. But she found it only made her sad to do so.

When James entered his study, he found his heart had finally stopped pounding so hard. In a way, he was happy for Pinky’s interruption. He was getting too heated and agitated talking about Umbridge and her proposed anti-werewolf legislation. Having spoken about it at length all morning with Remus while at Hogsmeade, he had not anticipated the subject to come up again so quickly, and especially not with a student.

What surprised him more than Miss Evans knowing about the proposed law (which in of itself was an accomplishment compared to the general indifference of the rest of the Hogwarts student body), was her strong reaction to it. Very few people were so outspoken on something seen as so controversial. Dumbledore, of course, had strongly vocalized his opposition, and James felt confident that much of the staff was in agreement. 

But it was not so readily accepted by those in the larger community, even those he graduated with just a few years ago. The irony of course was those same people who would happily buy Remus a drink if they saw him round the pub, were the people who would demand he be chained up somewhere far away from _civilized_ society if they knew about his lycanthropy. A new hot bubble of anger rose in him as he pulled the stack of essays in front of him. He’d be skipping dinner tonight if the queasiness in his stomach were any indication.

He had long given up hope that even the younger generations of wizards would see the truth of it all, instead accepting that only he and his closest friends would have Remus’ back. James was prepared to help him even if the community turned its back, that much he had known since he was twelve years old. 

He didn’t allow himself to grow more hopeful even after his conversation with Evans - it would be foolish to use her as a pulse point for an entire class of students - but he couldn’t stop himself from a steady feeling of appreciation for her.

***

_Caradoc,_

_After visiting the kitchens, it’s become quite evident the rumors about the house-elves’ wages are entirely fabricated. Will be in touch soon._

_Lily_


	2. Stealing Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In an alternate timeline (that's better than this one) it's already Friday. ;)  
> Also, clearly, I have no chill.

_Lily,_

_That’s not surprising. Good of you to check into it anyway. Let’s try to have the angle put together by the first Hogsmeade weekend. Has the date been released yet?_

_Caradoc_

***

With the house-elves angle turning out to be a dud, Lily was growing ever more anxious to find the subject of her story. Until she could find one, she was writing down everything she was experiencing, and she found the best time for doing this was between classes, if she could slip by her new friends and arrive before the professors did.

One afternoon in late September, she was taking advantage of such a time and headed to the Potions classroom a half-hour early to work on a reply to Caradoc – he was also not keen on the Restricted Section idea and told her an event happened during his tenure there which changed the rules – when a fifth year came silently out of Professor Slughorn’s storage room and avoided her stare as he marched out the door.

Since then, she had planted certain ideas in Mary and Marlene’s heads, casually asking why there would be students in the teacher’s classroom alone. They immediately turned the question back at her, and even when she tried other angles, they blew off her inquiries in disinterest. The only way to assuage her curiosity – because she was quite sure there were students stealing ingredients – was by making the Potions classroom her main point of leisure whenever she could manage it.

Now two weeks from the incident, she hurried along the corridors and slipped silently into the dungeon, walking along the back rows until she reached her usual seat on the right side of the room. As she rummaged in her school bag for her notebook and quill, she was startled by the loud thwack of the dungeon door opening again. _Is this it—?!_

“Can’t bloody well believe it, Padfoot,” Professor Potter was saying to his hand. “Potions. Of all the ruddy subjects, it had to be _Potions_ —”

He stopped his rant as soon as he looked up to see her.

“Got to go,” he said to his hand before placing it into his pocket. “Miss Evans. What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for class to start?”

“Of course,” he mumbled in response, throwing his bag onto the counter Professor Slughorn usually stood behind. She thought she discerned a few choice words. “NEWT Potions to start. Bloody great day…”

“Are you all right, Professor?” she asked, rising from her chair but not stepping any closer to him.

“I’m fine, Miss Evans.” He rubbed his hands under his glasses before tousling his hair. “Professor Slughorn’s had an emergency… Professor Dumbledore asked me to take over his classes in the interim.”

Lily was not sure why he was telling her this, but by her nature, she kept him going.

“Not a fan of Potions, Professor?”

He snorted. “Potions isn’t a fan of _me_ , Miss Evans. I like it enough… Well, actually I hate the subject, but Potions hated me first.”

“I can see why,” she said, without thinking. His face whipped up to look at her.

“Oh?”

“Sorry,” she apologized quickly, silently cursing herself for her casual, thoughtless response. She had to remind herself she was his pupil – though they were of an age, they were not equals. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“Now, now, Evans, don’t retract. Out with it.”

Lily started twisting her hands in front of her as he took a few steps toward her. “I just meant… well, it doesn’t seem you are well suited for Potions. You teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, which is very instinctual, isn’t it? Not to say there’s no theory behind it, or that the theory isn’t important. But when you are in a situation where you need to defend yourself, you can’t consider the complexities of what you are doing, can you?” He leaned back on the desk behind him, staring intently at her, and from the dim lights of the dungeon, his eyes looked dark. “Whereas Potions is a very calculated branch of magic. It takes acute detail, and to some that is a very tedious, unwelcome complication. To some, instinctual magic is more appealing and natural.”

He continued to stare at her, and she felt her face flushing.

“You know, I went to Hogwarts not too long ago. And if we would’ve been in the same year and you told me that explanation about why I’m bad at Potions, I would’ve taken it to mean you think I’m _simple_ – that is to say, not complex.” Lily’s face flushed brighter. “But I’m a much wiser man, and I don’t think you’re trying to insult me, Miss Evans.”

“Of course, I wasn’t, Professor,” Lily assured. Professor Potter nodded as he stood up straight again. “You’ll know when I’m insulting you,” she muttered quietly.

But before he could respond, the door to the dungeon opened once more and the rest of the seventh year NEWT students began filing in. Professor Potter threw one last look over to Lily, his lips pulling up at the side ever so slightly before he turned to greet the students.

***

“Could you stop that? I can see directly up your nose and I have to say it’s about as wet and hairy looking as Padfoot’s is.”

“Har, har, Prongs. You know I have drinks with Emmaline in an hour and I need to make sure I’m my regularly handsome self,” Sirius explained, through the two-way mirror. “Now hold still so I can try to see my reflection in your glasses.” James pointedly lifted his glasses to the top of his head and Sirius stopped his antics. “Fine. Back to the point before you so rudely ended our conversation earlier. What were you saying about Potions?”

“Dumbledore asked me to cover for Sluggy this week,” James told him.

Sirius laughed. “Clearly Slughorn had no say in his successor. How’re you going to pull that one off? Or are you changing the curriculum to How to Blow up a Cauldron in Two Steps?”

James scowled into the mirror before throwing a look toward his classroom door which was open wide enough to see students walking by. “I’m working on it, Pads.” A flash of red passing the doorway caught his eye. “Got to run.” He unceremoniously threw the mirror back into his pocket as he shot toward the door. “Miss Evans if you have a moment, please!”

She was nearly onto the next corridor but stopped at her name and followed him into his classroom. He retreated to his desk, which he leaned against much like he had in Potions just hours before.

“Yes, Professor?”

“Miss Evans, I wanted to ask…a favor.” His face contorted as if he had a bad taste in his mouth.

“Oh?”

“I was hoping you would be willing to… assist with the Potions classes I’m teaching this week. I know your workload is daunting,” he defended quickly, “but I also know you have two free periods that line up with third and fourth year Potions and it would be an immense help to me if you would assist.”

“Do you mean… _teach_? Sir?”

He laughed, almost nervously. “Not teach per se. I will have no trouble with the first and second years. I can brew the cure for boils by _memory_ –” she opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “--and the fifth and sixth years have a good handle on things. But the third and fourth years could use… assistance. Professor Slughorn always speaks very highly of your talents in Potions.”

_He’s talking to other professors about me, is he?_ After shaking those thoughts from her head, she feigned consideration but found she was only doing it to see him squirm. She was looking forward to the free time to catch up on her exposé – after all, she didn’t need to take her final year of school over again – but what could it hurt?

Of course, no need to give in that easily.

“I’m not sure, Professor. What kind of assistance would _I_ be able to provide that you can’t?”

_Is she…mocking me? Or is this flirting? Is this how girls flirt now?_ He almost physically shook his head, uncomfortable at the thought.

“Allow me to be candid,” he said. “The last time I attempted a shrinking solution I blew up my cauldron. It would benefit me greatly if you could be available should the students have any questions that I may be unable to answer due to… lack of practice.” Lack of practice, lack of ability, _whatever_.

“Oh, I see. Well…my workload is fairly heavy,” she said, wondering if she could push him to offer extra credit. His genuine features reigned her in. “But I think I can help you, sir.”

“Fantastic. Thank you, Miss Evans.” He rummaged on his desk for a piece of parchment and scribbled down the times of the two Potions classes before handing it to her. “And here. If you could arrive a few minutes early that would be best.”

“You’re welcome, Professor Potter and of course I will be there. Will that be all?”

“One last thing. Ten points to Gryffindor.”

Though she had been a Gryffindor for only a few weeks she was caught up in the spirit of the house competition and beamed. “What was that for, sir?”

“To soften the blow as I now take five points from Gryffindor for the cheek you gave me earlier in the Potions’ classroom.” If she didn’t know better, she would’ve thought he was hiding a grin. “That’ll be all. Good evening, Miss Evans.”

“’Bye.”

***

“You’re doing _what_ now?” Mary accosted her the next afternoon as she packed up her bag.

“Professor Potter asked if I would be an assistant for a couple of Potions lessons this week,” she explained for the hundredth time.

“And you agreed?” Marlene said. “Do you hate yourself or something?”

“Potions is not that bad,” Lily said, laughing.

“Spending more time with Professor Potter is not that bad, she means,” Mary said pointedly to Marlene.

“What?” Lily asked, affronted. “Professor Potter is… well, he’s kind of arrogant, isn’t he? And a bit of a jerk sometimes?” Mary and Marlene laughed, leaving Lily feeling as though she was being left out of a private joke. “What?”

“Well of course he’s an arrogant jerk. He was that way in school, too,” Mary explained. “We were third years when he was in seventh.”

“He was worse, probably,” Marlene added. “But it worked for him. He never seemed to be short a date for Hogsmeade weekends.”

“Arrogant is not really my style. In any case, I am just helping, which I would for any professor. And I’m going to be late if I don’t go now.”

“That class doesn’t start for another hour!”

Ignoring this fact, Lily threw her bag over her shoulder. “See you later.”

She decided the extra time before class would be well spent outlining some of her findings for the article. It was becoming remarkably hard to find alone time to work on it without being interrupted by one friend or another keen on looking at her notebook as if she were working on an assignment they had forgotten about. Unfortunately, it was not two minutes after she uncorked her inkwell that the door burst open and a frantic Professor Potter came soaring into the room.

“Miss Evans, thank Merlin you are here.”

“Professor,” she greeted, flustered from his sudden appearance. She shoved her notebook in her bag as she stood up. “What’s wrong?”

“I just received an owl from Professor Slughorn telling me he had not made the batch of Shrinking Solution necessary for the third years today.” He tossed his bag on the desk at the front of the class and marched over to where the ingredients were stored. She could hear clinking glass and mumbles. “I don’t even know what is in this bloody thing.”

“Professor,” she said as she hesitantly walked into the storage room. “Do you have the textbook?”

He remained crouched beside the shelf but whipped around to look at her. “No. You brought yours, didn’t you?”

She laughed nervously, taken aback by the way his cool demeanor had transformed. “Yes, but I don’t have the full potion written in mine. We’ll need the book the third years use.”

“Right,” he said, as though he knew it all along. His long limbs straightened as he stood up and she led him toward the books and extracted the correct one.

“Here it is… Shall I read it to you, Professor? Then you can find the ingredients?” She pretended not to notice the unsure look he had on his face as he turned to the shelf again. It was kind of cute. Which she was allowed to think, thank you very much. Most other girls had no problem vocalizing this sentiment, so there was no harm in thinking it, right? “Or, if you’d rather, I can get them. I am more familiar with Professor Slughorn’s set-up.”

“That makes more sense,” Professor Potter said, relief lightening his cheeks as she passed the book to him. He cleared his throat, and she stifled her laugh. “Shrivelfigs to start. And then daisy roots. Four of those, Miss Evans… It says to chop ‘more finely’ in these instructions. What does that even mean? More finely? Is there really a spectrum for finely? Merlin, this subject…”

She couldn’t hold her laugh back this time. “What’s next?”

“Oh, sorry. Right. Five caterpillars – hairy ones, so evidently, _not_ the bald kind. Are there bald kinds? Do you suppose they’re self-conscious about that? I imagine they would have to be.” He seemed to be enjoying her laugh – and he was, despite himself. It was loud, ungirlish, and unfettered, the way all laughter should be. “Wormwood… Well-shaken, to boot. Is there pre-shaken wormwood there that you can find? It will save us time.”

“Speaking of time,” Lily said, now so laden with vials they were sitting precariously in her arms. “We are going to be cutting it close, Professor!”

Being addressed by this title seemed to bring him back to reality, and his face immediately became businesslike as he read the rest of the ingredients and helped her carry them to the front of the classroom. He let her take lead as they began brewing, but once they made progress he seemed to relax, if his slackened shoulders were any indication.

“ ’Stir slowly with caution’,” he read aloud as he wrote the corresponding words onto the blackboard behind her. She nodded, concentrating, and he only spoke again when she finished. “This is the bit where I blew up my cauldron.”

“Is it really? I was wondering, actually.”

He laughed – for what she thought was the first time around her – and it made her want to laugh, too. “I haven’t the faintest idea, to be honest. But knowing me, this sounds like the time for it. ‘With caution’? At thirteen, I did nothing with caution. I actively _sought out_ things to do recklessly.”

She took the book from him in his state of distraction and continued to the next steps. “Sounds like you were a proper thirteen-year-old boy, then.”

“Much to my mother’s chagrin,” he said, nodding. “All those years of etiquette classes and her reward was a son who once got three detentions in a month.”

“Only three? When I was –” But she cut herself off abruptly. She was about to tell him about her achievement of receiving four detentions in her second year at Beauxbatons but realized just in time she had never actually gone there. As far as he knew or could ever know. He looked at her curiously. “That is, I’ve heard about a boy at Beauxbatons – my mum went there – who got four detentions once.”

Professor Potter laughed. “Well, I suppose I didn’t try hard enough then, did I, Lily?” Her name slipped from his lips without him realizing. “Sorry. Miss Evans, I should have said.”

“Lily’s fine,” she assured him quickly, as she finished her final stirring instruction. “I don’t mind.”

He laughed, and it sounded nervous to her ears. “I shouldn’t. Believe me, it’s generally not considered a good practice.”

“I understand. I promise I won’t report you for this slip-up. Nor any future ones.”

He nodded, running a hand over the back of his hair before gesturing to the potion. “Right. So, the heat is on high temperature then? The students should be arriving any mo—”

He was cut off by the sound of approaching feet and cleared his throat as he passed around her to open the classroom door.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted, as the third years, muttering excitedly to each other about Professor Potter’s presence, poured into the classroom. “Yes, yes, it’s all very thrilling to see me twice in one day. Do hold your excitement to the level just below pants wetting.” She marveled as she watched him turn on the authority switch he seemed to have. “Take your normal seats. I am filling in for Professor Slughorn just for today and we will be moving forward in your education. You have already learned about Shrinking Solutions and how dangerous they can be when improperly brewed, so I suggest you pay close attention to the instructions I have written on the board.”

She looked up and noticed sets of eyes diverting between her and Professor Potter – James, her traitorous mind had started calling him ever since she learned his first name – which apparently he realized as well.

“This is Miss Evans, a seventh year who has kindly volunteered to help assist you. I expect you will treat her with the same respect you show me.” She bent over the cauldron to hide her smile. “Now, let’s begin.”

Even to Lily, the class period went by quickly, which she was sure was a relief to Professor Potter who did little to hide his distaste for the subject. She was still busy going between students when he called that there were only five minutes left in the class for them to turn in their potions and clean up their cauldrons and supplies.

Mass pandemonium ensued and Lily was surprised that there was only one near-miss for an upended cauldron before the tornado of thirteen-year-olds sprinted from the classroom. Professor Potter seemed unconcerned with this as he began stacking the vials within Slughorn’s long wooden vial holder that was likely older than their combined age.

“I think that went well,” Lily said casually, as she continued her way around the room straightening up the desks and magicking away spills born from carelessness or ineptitude.

“About as well as could be expected.” Professor Potter warily eyed the vials. “I hope these hold up for Professor Slughorn’s return, as I have no intention – and have been given no direction, for that matter – to grade these.”

“Did you say he is returning this weekend? They should be fine.” Lily glanced around the room to find most of it tidy, as tidy as a dungeon classroom could be at any rate. “Are you all set for the fourth years? Or do we need to brew that potion as well?”

James turned away from the vials and consulted the notes at his side. “Should be done – ah, Wit-Sharpening potion, it looks like.”

Lily walked over to the large cauldrons at the far end of the classroom where Slughorn did his class brews and found the potion in question, glistening yellow before her. “Indeed, it is here. He’s made quite the batch.”

“Identifying the potion by sight?” he said, his eyes traveling over to where she stood as he shook his head. “Careful. If you keep that up, you’ll be invited to the Slug Club.”

“The Slug Club? What’s that?”

“Just a private club filled with some of Professor Slughorn’s most talented or most… well-connected students.”

This piqued Lily’s interest. She recalled Caradoc mentioning something along these lines when giving her a brief overview of the professors before she started. But she hadn’t paid it much mind, thinking its exclusivity would bar her from even being considered. However, if Professor Potter was bringing it up there was a chance – albeit perhaps a tiny one – that she could secure herself an invitation. There could be a story there.

“Huh. I hadn’t heard of that,” she lied, now walking away from the set of cauldrons back to where she had left her bag. “Were you in it?”

He stifled a laugh, barely. “Not really. I think I was invited a couple of times in my fifth year, but I had some… _extracurricular_ activities that usually precluded me from attending.”

“Ah, detentions?” she asked, sagely, seeming to have caught on from his tone. He had to stop himself from gaping at her and it was her turn to stifle a laugh. “I’d heard… well, that you were a bit of a prankster while at school.” Before thinking much about it, she added: “Nothing wrong with a good prank every now and again, I always thought.”

“Oh?” He looked at her curiously.

She stopped herself from immediately answering, having arrived again at the life she hadn’t lived as far as anyone could know. She hadn’t been overly prank-happy, nor done anything dangerous. Just simple charms like turning her friends’ hair different colors and making it so their shoelaces would never stay tied longer than five minutes. She had to draw back on her home life for this though.

“Yeah. Nothing big of course. My sister Petunia doesn’t do well with magic, being a Muggle and all. So, she doesn’t react well to even the simplest of –”

“Muggle? I thought -”

“Did I say sister? I meant cousin. We’re so close sometimes we just call ourselves sisters.” To avoid looking at him, she started straightening out the quill she had haphazardly thrown in her bag earlier.

“Ah. I see. I can imagine you would be close to many of your family members. I believe Professor Dumbledore told us your mum schooled you?”

“Um yes, at first. But then I also had a personal instructor for my education. It’s more common in France.”

“Are you French?”

“Erm. No. Just relocated there for a time before moving back to England.”

“I see. I had heard there were talks of personalized instructors at Beauxbatons when I was in school but hadn’t heard anything come of it. I’d be interested to know –”

“About Beauxbatons?” said a voice that sounded an awful lot like hers.

“Yes?” Professor Potter was looking at her strangely now. “Didn’t you say earlier your mum attended?”

“Of-of course, yes. I just never really got involved, y’know. Mum never talks about it and after a while, I’d pretty much forgotten about it. Don’t know much, to be honest.” He was continuing to eye her curiously as she threw her bag over her shoulder. “Well, I ought to go. I have Transfiguration next period, and you know Professor McGonagall can be very strict about tardiness.”

“I am well aware,” he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as if reminiscing fond memories. “Thank you again for your assistance. Twenty points to Gryffindor.”

“Oh! Erm, thank you, Professor. I am happy to help but certainly appreciate the points…. Well, I’ll be off then. See you tomorrow, Professor!”

And without waiting for a reply, she dashed out of the room, slamming the large wooden door shut behind her. She was inclined to lean against it to collect her thoughts before her next class but didn’t have the time. And Merlin forbid she remain anywhere close to this corridor when Professor Potter finally emerged.

It took her everything she had to not flat-out run to Transfiguration.

Over the rest of the day, she couldn’t stop herself from playing the conversation over again in her head. She had been careless, and very stupid, bringing any of her previous pranking up in front of Professor Potter. There was just something about him that made it easy for her to talk to him, to share the _real_ parts of her, the parts of her personality that he seemed to share. She couldn’t quite understand why she was inclined to do so, because he was so reclusive and strict most times. But the bits of personality and laughter _he_ let shine through today had made it easy for her to drop her guard around him. She thought about it for quite some time and resolved by the time she was lying down for bed, that it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. True that he was her “professor” currently, but they were of an age and actually might have been _friends_ if she had attended school at Hogwarts instead of Beauxbatons.

Still, it was a fine line to walk. And probably best done by letting her home and past life stay behind her as to avoid further slip-ups. She was a half-blood witch, with a Muggle cousin Petunia. Her mum was a witch who attended Beauxbatons Academy in France and then subsequently homeschooled her with the help of an additional instructor. That was who she had to be, and she needed to keep it top of mind. At all times.

***

The next day, Potions class with the fourth years went less smoothly. Lily was being pulled around by multiple groups at a time, which fortunately made it difficult for her and Professor Potter to talk. She didn’t even have a moment to notice that he too was fielding questions from the students. Both looked slightly windswept as the students exited.

They fell into silence as they resumed their roles from the previous day – Professor Potter collecting vials, and Lily straightening up the classroom.

“Thank you, again, for your assistance in Professor Slughorn’s absence, Miss Evans,” Professor Potter said after a few minutes. “I’ll award Gryffindor another twenty points. You may go.”

“Oh.”

She tried not to sound taken aback or disappointed, but clearly, the thoughts that swirled in her head the previous night had conflated the interaction from yesterday into something it was not. She only then realized she had expected further conversation with him, further laughter even, and insights into the goings-on of the castle.

He finally looked up, eyes searching for her after a minute passed without her emerging from Professor Slughorn’s storage closet. Grasping the now-full wooden vial holder in his hand, he made his way toward the closet. At the exact moment he turned to face inside she stepped out, having regained her faculties, and they collided. The vials between them clanked violently against each other as Lily walked into his side. Her stride caused her to stumble, but his strong hand reached out to grasp her arm before she fell backward. His other was thankfully still firmly holding the vials.

“Oh shit,” she muttered, not thinking, as she moved to help steady the vials. “Thank Merlin these are okay. _Shit_.”

He opened his mouth as though to speak and then closed it, eyes going between her and the vials. Then he seemed to realize he was still holding onto her arm and he let go, taking a step back.

“Are you all right, Miss Evans?” he finally made himself say. Again, he was looking at her strangely.

“Oh, yes. I’m really… I wasn’t hurt at all. And er sorry for the language. I was just so relieved we didn’t cost a bunch of fourth years their marks.” She looked sheepish but carried on as he walked past her to set the vial holder down in the storage room for safekeeping. “I can’t imagine being the new girl _and_ the one who cost an entire year their first term Potion scores.”

His back was still to her as he responded. “Merlin forbid. But I think if anything had happened, I could have covered for you, Miss Evans.”

He turned to look at her now, a small uptick to his lips again and she found herself grinning. “And lose your official Favorite Teacher Status? I don’t think that’s fair. I’m only here until June. You’ve got to teach that lot another three years after this one.”

He considered her before nodding his head and briskly walking out of the storage room. “Right you are. Excellent point. I suppose the blame would have all fallen to you, in that case. Living up to your house, Miss Evans. I must say from one Gryffindor to another, I am impressed.” He was fully grinning now as he tapped the lock on the storage room door, and she again found herself thinking how much she liked seeing him as _James_.

“Well, it’s the least I can do since you caught me. Thanks for that.” She touched the place on her arm as she said it. It must have come off to him as awkward as she felt saying it because his grin slowly faded to a more neutral Professor-Potteresque impression.

He cleared his throat. “Erm, not a problem. Not something I think bears mention again.”

She nodded in understanding before silently turning around and grabbing her bag. “Well, er, ‘bye then.”

“Goodbye, Miss Evans.”

He didn’t allow himself to watch her go, and only moved from his spot when he heard the thud of the classroom door as it closed. James looked down at his hand, which still felt warm after holding on to her soft skin. His mind was reeling. He had told her to _lie_. Sort of. Really not a lie, more like an omission. No need for her to tell the whole school he ran into her in the Potions storage closet, was there? Nothing strange about not wanting something like that to get out.

After a moment he reached into his pocket for the mirror, but then hesitated. What would he even say to Sirius about it? It certainly couldn’t have been the first time he grabbed – _okay, well that sounded bad_ – made contact with – _not much better_ – accidentally touched – _oof_ – a student. But he knew it had been. He made the decision, a calculated and well thought out decision, before taking the teaching post, that he would need strong boundaries with his students.

Not that he felt anything remiss would happen. Or that he would even consider such a thing. But with being so close in age, knowing some of the older students from his time at school, it felt right to be overly cautious and strict with his boundaries.

He was probably blowing it out of proportion. If a similar thing had happened with any student and, say, Professor McGonagall, it would not even garner a second thought. But because he was a twenty-two-year-old man, surrounded by young women, he knew everything could be scrutinized.

_Boundaries_ , he told himself as he hastened from the classroom, forcing other thoughts about Lily – Miss Evans – and her wit and sarcasm and intriguing past out of his mind.

***

_Caradoc,_

_No official notice about Hogsmeade yet, though the rumor mill is suggesting (hoping for?) Halloween weekend. I will let you know when I know._

_Still waiting on another sighting of the apparent potion thief. Spending most of my time between classes using the classroom for ‘studying’ which is going well in many ways._

_Lily_


	3. Playing Favorites

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My posting schedule will be the running joke behind this story.

_Lily_

_Odds seem good if there is something nefarious going on, they’ll likely stop doing it during the daytime hours or during classes if they see you around so much. Disillusionment charms can come in handy. Otherwise, maybe you can ask Professor Slughorn for permission to brew outside of normal hours and see what you may come across. In the meantime, anything else of interest or note coming up?_

_Caradoc_

***

“Can I sit here?”

She looked up and found crystal blue eyes imploring her. She believed the owner of said eyes was called Charlie Fawcett. Actually, she knew that to be true. First off because it was her job to learn about Hogwarts and its students, and also because he was Head Boy. Who doesn’t know the Head Boy? Especially when he was in your House, and Quidditch Captain to boot.

“Sure,” she answered, sliding her bag off the seat to make room for him. Mary shot her a grin from her right, which Lily ignored.

She tried to ignore both parties and Charlie with more fervor. He wasn’t bad looking – that was to say, he was very easy on the eyes. But he was also a student and she… well, technically she was, but really, she wasn’t. She heard Caradoc in her mind, scolding her. The story will find you, he would say, but only if you are open to it. If she ignored arguably one of the most well-known and influential students at the school, well, then she simply would not be a good reporter.

“How are you liking Hogwarts so far?” Charlie asked as he tugged his defense textbook out of his bag. “I heard you were schooled at home before this year.”

Her lies were circulating well, it appeared.

“Yes, I was,” she confirmed. “Hogwarts is great though. I’m looking forward to seeing what the Quidditch matches are like.”

His face immediately lit up, and she knew instantly that she had said the right thing.

“Fan of Quidditch, are you?”

She nodded fervently. “Oh yes. I follow the league and my mum went to Beauxbatons, so I’ve watched quite a bit there on visits.”

She was generally opposed to mentioning Beauxbatons in the event someone might dig further into it and find her school records, but she felt there was little harm in telling him.

“The French?” he scoffed, good-naturedly. “I think you will enjoy it more here. You’re in for a good first match, too. Slytherin versus Gryffindor – great rivalry. I’m the captain.”

“Oh!” she said, as though this was news to her. “What position do you play?”

“Chaser,” another voice answered.

Heads shifted around to watch as Professor Potter strode into the room.

“Good morning, class,” he said as he passed by their desks and placed a stack of papers on his own. “I would like to get started if we’re through with all the Quidditch talk. Anything else to add, Mister Fawcett?”

Charlie looked slightly taken aback as he answered, “No, sir.”

“Right,” Professor Potter said briskly. “Then wands out, please.” He cleared his throat as the class shuffled through their bags. “Before we begin, I wanted to inform you that I will be holding additional office hours in the coming month on a trial basis. Part of the objective here is to give you one-on-one feedback and this feedback is designed to help those of you looking into careers that rely heavily on defense or fields that require a high passing NEWT score.”

All eyes were glued to him as he leaned back on his desk.

“There will be sign-up sheets posted on my office door. This is _not_ the time for general assistance – do not come prepared to go over your essays. Miss Evans, if you will see me after class, please.” She hardly heard her name and was startled to realize he had spoken to her. She nodded and he began again. “Now, onto the lesson...”

If there was any way of assuring Lily would do poorly in class, it was to make her aware of an appointment she could neither prepare for nor get out of. After the lesson, while students packed away their things, Lily kept her supplies on her desk, unsure of what she would need.

“Want me to wait?” Mary asked half standing, half kneeling on her chair.

“Nah. Go on to lunch. I’ll catch up with you there.”

“If you’re sure…” Lily nodded. “All right. See you later.”

“Thanks for letting me sit next to you,” Charlie said once Mary had gone. “Maybe next class…” His voice trailed away upon noticing Lily’s eyes traveled beyond him to Professor Potter.

“Sorry, Charlie. Mind if I meet up with you at lunch?” 

“Of course, no problem. See you later, Lily. Goodbye, Professor.”

Professor Potter waved in response to Charlie’s goodbye, before turning to Lily. “Thank you for staying behind,” he said, perching himself on the desk in front of her own. “I won’t keep you long.”

“Professor, am I in trouble?” She hoped her tone sounded genuine and not mocking.

“No, Miss Evans,” he said, a small smile appearing on his face. “I just wanted a quick moment to go over your career ambitions. Typically, you would have gone through your options in fifth year. That was not possible as you were not enrolled here at that time. However, that does not mean you should be robbed of the chance to discuss your aspirations. Professor McGonagall as your Head of House would usually hold this meeting with you, but as she is busy and I knew I would have a free moment, I offered.”

“Oh,” she said when he paused as though waiting for her to speak. “Thank you, sir.”

He waved away her gratitude. “I’m as qualified as any teacher to discuss your plans – and it was just a few years ago I sat where you’re sitting and contemplated my options. You have shown a great aptitude for defense, and I don’t say that to influence your decision. Do you have a particular field in mind for when you graduate?”

Her mind went blank. Of all the things she had meticulously planned when creating her Hogwarts persona, she hadn’t given much consideration to what she was planning to do after Hogwarts. It all seemed so terribly short-sighted now.

“Well, I like Defense,” she told him, to break the pause that was steadily becoming too long for comfort. “I also really enjoy Potions, as you know…. I’ve heard about positions in the ministry that involve creating potions or identifying them in investigations.”

Professor Potter’s smile grew, one side of his lips raised higher than the other, and it drew her smile out. “Those are some very high aspirations.”

Her face fell as his words sunk in. “Well, it was just an idea… I don’t know much about it or what it would take to do it…”

“Don’t misunderstand me. You will be well suited for that line of work, Miss Evans.” Her grimace softened at his words. “I am certain Professor Slughorn would have more information and literature for your benefit. Still, a few general one-on-one sessions might prove useful to you – if nothing more than to ensure you gain top marks because I can be certain you will need them to even be considered.”

“Of course. That would be great, Professor.”

“Excellent,” he said, sliding off the desk and returning to his own. He began shuffling papers around before reaching for his quill. “I expect your name to be down for one of the first time-slots available, Miss Evans.”

“Okay, Professor,” she said. “Is that all?”

“Unless you have something else to discuss?” He eyed her over his square glasses.

She shook her head as she gathered her belongings and shoved them hastily into her bag.

“Thanks again,” she said as she began walking out of the classroom.

“Oh, and Miss Evans, one last thing.”

Lily paused at the doorway and turned to look at him.

He was still looking down at the parchment when he spoke. “Be wary of boys who play Quidditch. They tend to be more trouble than they’re worth.” When he looked up at her, he had a lopsided grin on his face. It faded slightly as he saw her face. “That was a joke, Miss Evans. Good afternoon to you.”

She cleared her throat after a moment, her stomach clenched for some reason. “Goodbye, Professor.”

***

Finally, the first, and arguably most anticipated Quidditch match of the year, was upon them. Lily woke up early with Mary and Marlene, donned her Gryffindor apparel, and headed down to breakfast where the Gryffindor team already sat huddled around each other, some looking as green as the Slytherin team’s Quidditch robes. When they got close enough to the group, Lily noticed Charlie Fawcett was standing among them giving a pep-talk.

“I understand you are nervous, Brown, but that’s a good thing! A bit of nerves will keep you on your game.” He turned to talk to the group. “Listen, we have practiced and trained for this. So much that Coates’ girlfriend dropped him.” It was easy to see who Coates was when the rest of the team gave into laughter at this comment. “Get down to the pitch and get changed. I’ll be on in a bit after I get a quick breakfast.”

Four of the six got up immediately at his words and trudged out of the Great Hall. The other two, the Chasers, if Lily had done her homework completely, idled back to have a few more bites of food, apparently eager to remain by Charlie’s side in case he had any last-minute strategizing to do. Charlie sat between them and was reaching for the jam when he noticed her.

“Morning, Lily! Ready for your first Hogwarts Quidditch match?” He was grinning and she smiled back.

“Yes, I’m looking forward to it. Good luck!”

“Score her a goal or two if you can,” Marlene goaded, pulling Lily’s arm and leading her further down the table, Mary laughing as she followed.

“I’ll do what I can,” Charlie called back, excitement in his voice. His cheeks were reddening around the edges, but his fellow Chasers seemed to not notice.

“Has he asked you out yet?” Mary asked as they all sat down next to each other on the side of the table opposite Charlie.

Her stomach clenched, whether from excitement or nerves she couldn’t tell. She suspected strongly it was nerves – and not the good kind. “What? No. Is he supposed to?”

“They just posted the day of the first Hogsmeade weekend. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.”

“I agree. We think he has a thing for you,” Mary informed her casually, as she poured herself some tea.

“Oh,” Lily said, crestfallen. The eggs she’d plated now looked unappetizing.

“You don’t like him?” Mary asked, nearly scandalized. “Why not?”

“I don’t know… I hardly know him. And what d’you mean why not? If he’s so great why don’t you fancy him?” Lily didn’t even need to feign the indignation that she felt strongly sounded like something her seventeen-year-old self might have said.

Mary and Marlene laughed, and judging by the food they were digging into on their plates, they did not share her sudden-onset food aversion.

“He’s all right. Most girls our year have had crushes on him throughout our time here. But we’re over them now.”

Marlene nodded her agreement. “We’ve watched him go through his awkward teenage years. You’re jumping in at the good part. His voice hardly cracks now.”

“You’re awful, Mar,” Mary said, giggling madly into her teacup.

Lily’s next response was silenced by the appearance of Professor Potter, who marched past them without a glance and stopped behind the group of Chasers.

“Morning.”

“Good morning, Professor,” they chorused back.

“You about finished, Fawcett?” James – Professor Potter – asked. Lily knew she had to stop thinking of him as James before she found herself calling him by it. “It just occurred to me a tactic they might rely on. If you are heading down to the pitch, I can talk you through some ideas.”

Charlie rose to his feet, grabbing one last piece of toast, and accompanied Professor Potter through the Great Hall and out the doors.

“I’m still surprised the other houses like him so much even when they see such blatant favoritism,” Marlene commented, eyes still lingering on the doors.

“Favoritism?” Lily asked.

Favoritism was one of the many keywords she listened for during conversations. The word usually led to potentially interesting angles.

“Yeah,” Marlene said, looking at Lily strangely. Realization dawned on her. “Oh, I forgot you don’t know. Professor Potter played for the Gryffindor team when he was at school here. Chaser.”

“And Captain,” Mary added matter-of-factly.

“He’s not overly involved, of course. Professor McGonagall is still our Head of House and approves the Quidditch scheduling. But Professor Potter is always nosing about with Charlie Fawcett discussing strategies.”

“Charlie replaced him as Chaser once he graduated.”

“Right. At any rate, you don’t see any other teachers so actively involved. Not that I’m complaining. We nearly won the cup last year because of it.”

“Interesting,” Lily said finally. Her mind was reeling. So, James… Professor… he was a Quidditch player, was he? Captain, no less. And always nosing about with Charlie Fawcett.

“You all right, Lily?”

“Oh, yes. Just find it interesting Professor Potter was a Chaser. But… mostly I’m just excited for the match.”

“You’re going to love it.”

“Especially if we win!”

“Which we _will_!”

***

They did. And then Lily found herself among the rest of the Gryffindors, crammed into the common room celebrating the victory. She lasted about an hour before she felt the walls closing in on her. She had to assure Mary three times that she was just stepping out into the corridor for a bit of air. The stairwells were littered with students and she knew the other girls in her dormitory were going in and out of their room, so that limited her options.

“Just popping out for a little while. Be back soon.”

She clambered out of the portrait hole and the noise pouring from the common room stopped immediately upon the frame’s closing. It was a welcomed relief, and she walked halfway down the corridor and propped herself on the ledge of an overly large windowsill. The sun was already setting. Lily watched as the reflection of the sun moved across the Great Lake, too distracted to hear the sudden reemergence of noise as Charlie Fawcett pushed open the portrait and spotted her.

“Lily! I was wondering where you’d gone to!”

“Hey,” she said, sitting up straighter with her back now firmly pressed against the stone wall. “Great match, Charlie!”

“Thanks. Did you enjoy it? Better than the Beauxbatons matches?”

She nodded convincingly. It was exciting enough, but she still didn’t have a real allegiance with Gryffindor after only a few weeks of school. “It was loads better. You can really fly.”

Charlie looked very pleased with himself, and he leaned on the other edge of the stone windowsill as he said, “Thank you. I’ve put a lot of time and practice in.”

“I can tell.”

_Flirting, really, Lily? He’s practically a child. Well, not really. Nearly eighteen with a nice strong stature. But still. Not the point._ In truth though, she knew what Caradoc would say to her in this moment. She couldn’t shy away from one of the most popular and influential boys at the school. Not if she had any chance at doing well on this assignment.

His grin covered his whole face, and she noticed him slide his hands in his front pockets. “So… Have you heard about Hogsmeade?”

“The village?”

“Yeah. We have our first Hogsmeade trip of the year coming up the weekend after Halloween,” he said casually. She had been asked out enough times to understand why his tone was casual.

“Oh, yes. I saw that on the post board in the common room. I’m looking forward to it.”

“So… well. Would you be interested in going with me?”

He looked so hopeful (and cutely dimpled) that she almost wanted to say yes.

“Oh! Well, that’s flattering of you to ask… but I already have the morning planned out.”

“Ah,” he said, his hands extracting from his pocket now as he stood up. His face remained hopeful, with seemingly great effort. “Well, how about the afternoon then? Maybe we can meet up for lunch?”

“I…” She paused. She should say yes, she knew she should say yes. Really, she should say no, but Caradoc would want her to say yes. And most girls would without hesitation. “Maybe, yeah. I… I think that might be possible.”

“Excellent! We can work out the details later.”

She nodded as he turned to face the portrait hole.

“Coming back inside to celebrate?”

“Oh, yeah. In a bit. It’s pretty crowded in there, and I needed a little break from it. But… I’ll be in there soon.”

“Great. I’ll save you a butterbeer.”

“Thanks, Charlie.” She gave him a small smile as he beamed back at her and climbed into the portrait, the joyful party noise rising and falling as the portrait opened and closed.

She settled back down, dragging her legs back across the edge of the sill, and turned to face the window again. A few minutes passed when another set of approaching footsteps brought her attention away from the outside.

“Miss Evans.”

“Professor Potter,” she said, straightening herself out again so she was sitting up properly in front of her professor. “Hello.”

“Good afternoon.” He was still dressed in casual attire, but his sleeves were rolled up to his forearms. Her eyes were drawn to this fact as he crossed his arms over his chest, though she caught herself quickly and he hadn’t seemed to notice. “Not celebrating with your fellow Gryffindors?”

“Err… celebrating?”

He laughed mildly – it wasn’t the truly jovial way she had heard in the Potions classroom the week before. “I am very aware of what happens in the common room after a victory, Miss Evans.”

She nodded, resolved to tell him the truth now that she was fairly certain he was not in an authoritative mood. “I was. But it’s crowded and I wanted to get away for a bit.”

“Getting out of hand?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. She stood up from the sill now as he walked closer to the Fat Lady’s portrait. “Did it often when you were there?”

He looked as though he very much wanted to grin but kept his face impassive. “There is always the chance things can get out of hand quickly.”

She nodded, hiding her smirk. “I’m sure. Of course, I would’ve informed our Head of House if things were getting out of control.”

“Very good. I was just passing by and thought I would make sure. But I will take your word for it.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and started walking back the way he came. “I will see you tomorrow for our first defense session, Miss Evans.”

“Okay, sir,” she said, lingering in front of the Fat Lady who was watching the two of them with interest. Before she could stop herself, she cleared her throat. “Professor?”

“Yes, Miss Evans?”

“I heard that you were a Quidditch player when you were in school. A Chaser for Gryffindor.”

He didn’t turn to face her. “Oh?”

Her heart hammered in her chest. “Yes, but I just thought I’d ask because it didn’t sound true and I don’t think people should spread rumors about their professors.”

He turned despite himself, but she was half looking in the other direction, hiding half of her face from him.

“I did, in fact, play Quidditch while I was a student here.”

“Oh… And you were captain?”

“Yes, Miss Evans.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry to bother you about it, Professor.”

“No matter,” he said, but before he walked away, he couldn’t help himself from asking: “Why didn’t you think it was true?”

She laughed, and she hoped it sounded as nervous as it would have been for a real seventh-year girl. “It’s just… the joke about Quidditch players, that other day… How they’re more trouble than they’re worth. I just figured… there was no way you were ever one.”

He – _James_ – couldn’t hold the smirk off his face now. “I certainly was one. It might have been a joke told about me not so long ago.” Their eyes met. She steadied herself under his gaze. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Miss Evans.”

“You too, Professor.”

***

For the first time since she started her assignment, Lily felt very hopeful about her most recent exposé angle of pursuit. The limited time she had been able to spend in the Potions classroom had borne little fruit, and while she still attempted to spend free time there when she needed to have a moment away from prying eyes, there was little activity apart from the few times she had run into Professor Slughorn. The positive there was he had mentioned his Slug Club to her and told her to anticipate an invitation to their first event in the weeks following Halloween. Other than that news, she did not find herself particularly interested in spending extra time in discussion with him, so she’d taken to finding different classrooms to invade between classes.

Unlike the stolen potion ingredient angle - which of course she hoped would lead to her discovering an extensive underground ring of illegal potion brewing at the school which would earn her an Order of Merlin for exposing - this new angle would require a bit more extensive research and delicate interviewing on her part to get it right.

She had already begun spending some additional time with Charlie Fawcett in the day that had passed after the Quidditch match. She talked extensively about Quidditch, which neither seemed to mind since they were both fans of the sport on a primal level. It was harder to bring Professor Potter into it, to explore the favoritism angle that Marlene and Mary had led her to. She was careful to tread lightly, as though her interest was in him - Charlie - and him alone, with just a general interest in how influential the professors typically were. Unfortunately, their conversations had provided little result, and based on the way he steered their conversations she didn’t anticipate that changing at any point soon.

Still, she had to try and had conveniently scheduled her first Defense one to one just after the match. Since it was a Sunday, she felt no reservation slipping on her Puddlemere jumper before making her way downstairs, through the common room, and out towards the Defense classroom.

When she arrived, the door was already propped open. Professor Potter was sitting at his desk, bent over a stack of parchment, which in of itself was not unusual. What was unusual, however, was his attire - a short sleeve black t-shirt. As she tentatively took a few steps into the classroom, she noticed a discarded sweater hanging off the back of his chair that he must have taken off in response to the roaring fire behind his desk. As she grew closer yet, it became apparent there was a tattoo on his right arm, just visible protruding under the sleeve. It looked disjointed, yet patterned but she didn’t think she’d get to see what it was against the brown of his skin. A wireless radio hummed softly next to him, and he tapped along with his free hand subconsciously it seemed.

She cleared her throat as she realized he had not heard her walk in. His head shot up. “Oh, hello Miss—”

But his voice cut off as he looked at her. His eyes traveled down from her face to her jumper; not in a leering way, but in the considering way he often looked at her. Like he was trying to understand her. “Evans,” he added finally, apparently realizing he’d left his greeting unfinished.

“Hi,” she said in reply, stopping several feet from him, a number of desks including his own still separating them. “Sorry, I think I’m a bit early.”

“No matter,” he said easily. He threw a look at his watch. “Hoping to move up a few minutes so you can get back to your dormitory in time for the broadcast?” His nod seemed to gesture to her shirt.

“Oh, not particularly. I haven’t been able to keep up so far this year,” she said, a little sadly. “Didn’t think to get a wireless before coming here.”

It was the truth. Since graduating, she had grown used to having the freedom to travel to Quidditch matches if she so desired. That she may need a wireless to keep up at Hogwarts never crossed her mind.

He studied her for a moment, then found himself smiling. “I’ve petitioned the Headmaster once or twice to add ‘wireless’ to the required supplies list. Maybe I should broach the subject with him again.”

She laughed in reply. “Well, that’ll do me no good now. But think of all the future Quidditch fans you could save from heartache.”

“ _Exactly_ how I presented it to the Headmaster,” he said smiling again, prompting another laugh from her. “If you’re planning to go to Hogsmeade you can probably pick one up from Dervish and Banges. They often have a few affordable options in stock.”

“I will definitely keep that in mind. In the meantime, I’ll just have to imagine Wilkes’ mishandling of the quaffle instead of hearing first hand from the broadcast announcers.”

“He’s _rotten_. I’ve been telling my mates for ages that they should sack him.”

Lily found herself sliding onto the seat nearest her as she gestured toward him in agreement. “So’ve I. Ever since the final against Chelsea. I was there, y’know. I couldn’t believe he kept his contract after giving up fifteen goals in five minutes. I didn’t even think that was _possible_.”

James - Professor Potter nodded emphatically. “We were there too. That was Christmas our final year here, and we were all so excited my dad had managed to get us tickets to the match. I think I was depressed for days after we lost. I was a right sod about it, looking back. Holed up in our dormitory, adamant that I was never going to leave my bed let alone root for Puddlemere again.”

Lily smiled at the use of _we_. She hadn’t known he was a Puddlemere fan but was not unhappy to learn it. She ignored the sinking feeling that came again, making her feel like they would have been good friends in an alternative universe. “And how’d that work out for you?”

He grinned, nodding toward the wireless. “Well, I’m about to hear us lose a game against the Cannons - the ruddy Chudley Cannons - who we should _handily_ defeat.”

“Which will inevitably lead to another bout of depression, I’d assume.”

He nodded gravely before his mouth twisted upward. “I’ve been telling myself for years - since that final - that I wouldn’t get so wound up about it. Yet, here I am every game.”

“It’s an illness, truly. There should be a support group for us Puddlers.”

“With biscuits and matching shirts,” he agreed as she laughed.

“It’s good to know I don’t have to suffer alone any longer. And at least I have school matches to tide me over. I bet it’s been strange, going from a participant on the house team to a spectator.”

He shrugged. “Maybe at first. It’s been easier than I expected to remove myself from it all.” He suddenly threw another look at his watch. “Well, we’ve already wasted a good two minutes of your session. We should begin.”

Lily nodded, standing up - she had a sinking feeling it was going to be much harder than she initially thought to explore this angle. Pushing that to the back of her mind, she came closer to where he sat, having noted the change in tone of his voice. He still looked at her with laughter reaching his eyes, but he stood up as she got closer, looking businesslike as he crossed his arms over his chest. Her eyes traveled to his arms where his tattoo was now more visible. She still couldn’t see exactly what it was, but even from where she now stood, she could tell there were some kinds of animal footprints trailing down his arm. She snapped her eyes back up to his face as he began speaking again.

“You’ve done well with nonverbal spells likely to show up on your NEWTs but you may still benefit from practical and theoretical review in one…”

***

Later that evening, James found himself in a place that had become so familiar to him in his youth but he never anticipated he’d frequent so often after graduation. Sirius sat next to him at one of the Three Broomsticks roomiest booths. It was particularly slow for a Sunday evening there, but neither of them seemed to mind. Sirius nursed his third firewhiskey, and James was still swirling his first brandy as they waited on Rosmerta to come over with their supper.

“So, when’d you smash the other one?” Sirius asked conversationally, a twinkle in his eye as he nodded at the parcel James had sat down with. “‘Bout the time Wilkes let in his fourth goal from the Cannon’s third-string Chaser?”

“About there, I’d expect,” James said, with a slight shrug.

The truth was, he had done no such thing. His wireless was still in one piece sitting where he left it on his desk. Despite being sorely tempted to blast it to pieces while listening to the match earlier this afternoon, he had shown restraint. He let Sirius go on believing as he wished, though he intended no harm to his old wireless model. He’d made the split decision to buy a new one when he arrived early to his planned dinner with Sirius. James had wanted to get a newer model than his aged version for a short while now. And there’d be no harm in gifting his old one now that he had a new one. But Sirius needn’t know that either, needn’t be provided that type of ammunition that he would misunderstand and throw around carelessly after one too many drinks (if he even waited until that point). It was nothing to fuss about, James knew, even if Sirius wouldn’t have understood.

“Squandering away your inheritance,” Sirius chastised, breaking the comfortable silence between them. “Monty and Mia will be disappointed when I tell them at tea tomorrow.”

James rolled his eyes. “I can afford a new wireless on the salary Dumbledore set.”

“Oh yes, the lucrative life of a professor. How had I forgotten? In that case, you get the next round, yeah?”

“I think you’ve had enough,” James told him seriously. He was met with Sirius’ bark-like laugh.

“I get it. Need to save up for the next new wireless which is going to be a pretty expensive habit if they keep employing Wilkes. Maybe they'll give you a discount for buying multiples. You ought to have gotten more than one if you think you might break it any time Wilkes has a particularly bad game.”

James hummed noncommittally, used to Sirius picking at him.

“What’s got your wand in a knot?” Sirius asked after another long pause.

“Nothing, Padfoot. Just tired is all.” He fiddled with the hem of his jumper, his drink forgotten in front of him. “Extra lessons with the seventh years. Going well, but taking up my already limited free time.”

Sirius nodded, his lips pursed. “You’re a great professor, Prongs. Much better than I expected, to be honest. Snogged fewer girls than I expected as well.”

“Git,” James said, rolling his eyes, just as Rosmerta came into view with their plates. James hadn’t realized how hungry he was until his stomach growled happily at the sight of her.

After a cheeky, flirtatious interaction between Rosmerta and Sirius, which James had gotten used to ignoring over the years, they fell into the comfortable silence that usually accompanied a delicious meal. James’ mind wandered to the new wireless many times. A little nagging voice in his head kept pointing out how strange it was that he wouldn’t tell Sirius the truth about his old wireless. He knew there was nothing to it - but there was always the chance of implication, especially with Sirius, and he was in no mood to hear it.

Not that he was planning to make a spectacle of gifting it. He also wasn’t planning to inflate it beyond a simple gesture. But the little voice kept nagging at this, wondering under what circumstance he could give away his old wireless so casually. He hadn’t the faintest idea, but then as if divinely orchestrated, the opportunity seemed to present itself the following day.

His Mondays were about as packed as possible, with first and third years in the morning, sixth year double period in the afternoon, and general office hours until supper. He felt particularly tired today, though he knew in part it was his fault for staying out with Sirius longer than he should have. And for such a tiring day, he found students across numerous years felt like overachieving on this particular Monday, so his office was co-inhabited for the entire three-hour block. Just as he was talking through the lack of clarity in the conclusion portion of Paul Stebbins’ latest paper, Lily Evans strode into his classroom through the open door.

“Professor, did you hear about W—” She cut herself off at the sight of Stebbins, her face aflame and clashing horribly with her hair. “ _Shit_. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No matter,” he told her, tossing a quick look at his watch. “Mister Stebbins and I were just wrapping up our discussion. But we only have about five minutes left before I conclude office hours for the day.”

“No worries, Professor,” Stebbins said, rolling his essay up as he stood up. “I’m all set.” He was grinning at Evans as he nodded. “All yours, Lily. Want me to save you a spot at dinner?”

To James, it appeared her face contorted for the smallest of moments, but then she smiled. “Err yeah, Paul, that’d be great.”

“Brilliant. See you. Thanks again, Professor Potter.”

James waved as Stebbins retreated out of the office, a spring in his step at his apparent good fortune in securing a spot next to Lily at dinner. James remembered a similar feeling during his own time as a student and wondered if he had looked half as stupid as Stebbins looked right then. When we finally looked at Lily, gesturing to the seat Stebbins had just vacated, her face flushed again.

“I… You’re going to think it’s stupid. I shouldn’t have come—”

“Go on, Miss Evans,” he told her over a rather angry rumble from his stomach. He needed to rethink the length of his office hours before dinner. “There are no stupid questions.”

She still looked red but seemed to resolve herself knowing she would not be able to slip away. “Wilkes has been relieved of his Keeper duties as of noon today!”

“ _What?!_ ” he found himself saying before he properly considered the volume of his voice. “Are you serious?” But instead of waiting for an answer he immediately turned on the wireless on his desk with a turn of the dials. She stood there awkwardly for a moment as he held his head closer to the speaker, where a raspy voice was now confirming what she had just said. “Yes! That is possibly the _least_ stupid thing I have heard in weeks. Or ever maybe. _Finally_.” He seemed to realize she was still standing there and caught her eye.

“I had a very similar reaction and just thought… I had to tell someone or at least talk to someone - another Puddler - about it,” she said, looking sheepish.

“I can say with absolute certainty that you made my day,” he told her. Her stomach flipped at these words despite herself. His face was alight like a laugh was at the edge of his lips ready to break through. She had never seen him look so… _open_. “Well, the Puddlemere general manager made my day, but as the bearer of the news you are a very close second.” This amendment did little to abate the blush that was steadily creeping back over her face.

“Well, we’re still waiting on the confirmation on who his successor will be so we may want to hold off on the celebration.”

“I don’t think I can. Not after waiting this long to be shot of him. Have you heard when they’ll be announcing that?”

Lily laughed. “Not sure. I’d only just heard it on Emily Prewett’s wireless in the common room, but she was scrolling through channels so I missed the full report. She was…less than receptive to my _request_ to turn the dial back to the Quidditch report.”

There was more to the story than she wanted to say. James bit back a smile at this realization.

“Well speaking of wireless.” It was only then Lily noticed that the wireless he had turned on was not the same she had seen in his office the day before. This one was notably bigger with an extra dial she hadn’t seen at first. “Just upgraded to a newer model. Would you like the old one?”

She blinked, not at all expecting to hear him say that. “Oh, I couldn’t. I was planning to get one at Hogsmeade as you suggested. I really… I don’t need…”

Some of the laughter on his face subsided to give him a more neutral look, though still not crestfallen. “I don’t mean it as charity,” he said quickly, but the words sounded a little tight coming out. “No pressure of course if you’d rather pick out your own. I’m sure I could find someone else to take it if you don’t want it. I figured you’d want to listen to Puddlemere get trounced next game, instead of reading the recap in the _Prophet_.”

She considered this for a moment, her eyes going from his face to the old wireless that he was now holding in his hand. He was dressed in a brown sweater that looked immaculate compared to his disorderly locks, and for a small moment, she remembered his fit arms from the day before. She tried her best to squash this idea out of her head. “All right, yeah. I’ll take it. Thank you,” she forced out as the silence grew long between them. She took the careful stride forward to him and took it from his outstretched hand with a small smile.

“You’re welcome,” he said easily, rubbing his now empty hands together and swiftly rounding his desk to grab his cloak. “Think it’s best we head down to the Great Hall because my stomach is making some particularly threatening growls at the moment. And I believe you have a very enthralled Paul Stebbins waiting for you at the Gryffindor table.”

She laughed, her cheeks turning slightly pink at this. “Oh. Yeah, right.”

She tucked the wireless into her school bag carefully before leading him out of the classroom. They walked side-by-side down toward the Great Hall. Dinner had already started, and it was punctuated by the vacancy and general quietness of the corridors they walked.

“Was it as bad as it sounded?” Lily asked suddenly, as they got to the end of the Defense corridor. “The game against the Cannons?”

He grimaced. “You’re lucky that wireless is in one piece after that performance by Wilkes. Though, if it led to his dismissal who’s to say it wasn’t worth it in the end?”

She laughed. “Bottom twentieth percent of the league in save percentage per minutes played, which shouldn’t be a shock to anyone who had seen him play more than four times a year. What’s more shocking is how we’ve remained so competitive with that bogging us down.”

“It’s all on Patel,” James told her, and she got the impression he had spoken about this at length to others, likely his friends. “Top goal scorer in the league —”

“And fewest turnovers. He’s a gem.”

James turned to look at her as she said this, and for the smallest of moments, she felt like he was analyzing her again like she was a complex Arithmancy problem to discern. It made her feel half nervous, half excited, and fully stupid. “Exactly right. His chemistry with Jones is unbelievable as well. We’re lucky to have their talent on our team.”

Their conversation continued as they walked through the Entrance Hall, but once they crossed the threshold into the Great Hall, a laugh still plain on Lily’s face, James bid her farewell and turned to walk between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw house tables to get to take a seat by Hagrid, the groundskeeper, who greeted him with a strong shoulder pat.

Lily only watched him out of the corner of her eye for a moment as she moved further into the hall studying the Gryffindor table. She found Stebbins seated near Mary, with a clear spot for her between them that she hastened toward now that the smell of food was awakening her unrealized hunger.

“Hey,” she greeted, carefully tucking her school bag under the table as she slid between them.

They both turned to her at once to return her greeting.

“Paul said you were having a last-minute review with Professor Potter,” Mary said conversationally, once Lily had plated her meal. Paul, who had turned to his right to speak to a sixth year called Caroline, didn’t appear as enthralled as James had made it seem, or he was proficient at hiding it. “I thought you got an Outstanding on the last essay?”

Lily shrugged, trying to play it off as though it was not a big deal. “I was just walking by and had a quick question about one of the things he marked on it,” she lied easily.

“And you couldn’t have asked during our class tomorrow?” Mary said, laughing slightly, but she let it go with a simple: “Swear you would have been made Head Girl easily if you hadn’t been home-schooled all those years.”

Lily laughed along with her as she tucked into her meal. For some reason, she found herself turning to look behind her, up at the teacher’s table. She found James easily, now engaged in an evidently very amusing conversation with Hagrid, based on the laughter he was barely stifling behind his goblet. She looked quickly back at her meal as Mary turned to speak with her again.

She didn’t allow her mind to go back to the wireless tucked away in her bag until she was walking back to Gryffindor tower sometime later. She was thrilled to have it, for several reasons, the main one being her ability to listen to Quidditch matches again. But she knew she’d likely be thinking about James often when she used it. And not for the first time did she find herself thinking back on their conversations over the past few weeks. He seemed so different outside of the class than when teaching. It didn’t necessarily surprise her, having picked up on the same when seeing him strategize with Fawcett before the Slytherin match. But she had been surprised at the easy way he spoke to her as if they got on as friends. She didn’t allow herself to go beyond that, or read into the gesture of giving her the wireless (she believed that he would have passed it on to any student who wanted it, and felt she was fortunate to be the first offered).

No, the part of it that left her mind reeling was knowing that she was starting to grow fond of _him._ And as she considered what exploring the favoritism angle may lead her to write about him, she found she was less inclined to explore it. If she started to let her fondness for him impact her assignment, she knew she was in big trouble.

***

_Caradoc,_

_Movement on the potion ingredients side is still unfortunately slow. You may be interested to hear the Head Boy and I have started talking more._

_Lily_


	4. On Hallows' Eve

_Lily_

_Thanks for the update. I’m sure this goes without saying, but I will write it anyway: hang out with the Head Boy more._

_Caradoc_

***

“Can I sit here?” Lily asked, hoping her voice sounded as timid as would be expected when approaching Charlie in the library. The school week following the match had slipped by them all, in part because of a large Transfiguration project that had come due. Lily hadn’t had much time to talk to Charlie after her first attempt to talk to him about Quidditch earlier in the week.

She had _tried_ of course, to the extent she was comfortable trying. Charlie had asked her to Hogsmeade, after all, and she agreed to go with hesitance, so she felt all her work to keep herself distanced to downplay the lunch “date” would be for nothing if she was frequently approaching him or fawning over him like the girls in the years below them. But a happenstance meeting in the library on a Friday evening? That could be explained away.

He looked up from the book he was pouring over at the sound of her voice, a smile plain and unabated on his face. “Hi, Lily. Yeah, of course. Surprised to see you here on a Friday night.”

“I can say the same for you,” she said, stowing her bag on the desk, carefully avoiding the stacks of parchment that were taking up half of the rectangular table. “Though this doesn’t appear to be any type of homework I’ve seen before.”

Charlie’s dimpled smile didn’t waver a bit. “You’d be right about that. I’m drafting some ideas for plays and defensive formations for Quidditch. Not exactly the most exciting way to spend a Friday night, I’ll grant you, but it’s easy to find a table here.”

“That’s fair,” she replied, unable to help herself from studying the diagrams and notes now that she knew what they were for. But what drew her eye more than anything was the navy-blue bound book that had bulrushes down the side. Charlie had closed it upon her arrival. As he shifted in his seat, the title became visible to her _Flying United: Puddlemere Strategies Through the Years_. “I didn’t know you were a Puddler.”

“What?” he asked his face scrunching in confusion until realization dawned on him and relaxed his features as he laughed. “Oh, Puddlemere United fan, you mean? ‘Cause of this book.” She nodded emphatically as a response. “Nah. Grew up an Arrows fan. Potter gave this to me when I made captain last year.”

“Really?” Her insides squirmed in response. She hadn’t _really_ thought herself as _important_ or anything to Professor Potter. He had said it himself, anyway, hadn’t he? That he was going to give the wireless to a student if any wanted it. So why was there a small part of her that grew warm with disappointment to learn he had gifted Charlie this? She had to stop going back to the reality that didn’t exist - the world where they _might have been…friends_ did not exist. He was her professor, despite all they had in common, and likely, even when the dust from the exposé settled, would never become her friend…

“ _Professor_ Potter,” said Charlie, seeming to take her curious tone and moment of introspection for confusion and clarified who he meant.

“That’s nice of him. Is that the reason everyone likes him?”

“What? Because he’s a…Puddler, did you call it?”

Lily laughed, pushing her hair off her shoulder in what she hoped was a nonchalant way, moving forward with her questions. “No, I just meant… that’s a very kind gift to give you for your achievement. Is that common with all the professors?”

Charlie’s face again grew foggy in his confusion. “Uh. No, I don’t suppose so? Potter told me he used this when he was captain. Not much use he’s getting out of it now, I figure, so he passed it on. Some of it’s a little dated. He highlighted a few things here that he must’ve tried with the team. But it’s a good starting off point in any case.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Are you preparing specifically for your next match? It’s against Hufflepuff isn’t that right?”

“Yeah, exactly right,” Charlie said, staring at her as though all thoughts of Quidditch formations had fallen out of his mind.

“And Johnson is their keeper, yeah? Do you keep stats on him?”

And off they went, Lily unable to stop herself from giving advice to Charlie. She suggested heavily favoring the right-most goal post, as it opposed Johnson’s dominant hand (which of course _statistically_ meant he was likely to be weaker on that side). As they kept talking, Lily found herself sketching out a couple of formation ideas as well as reviewing a couple of his new play ideas, offering the idea of adding a feint to an already tricky play, which was met with great enthusiasm by Charlie as soon as he heard the idea.

The next hour flew by, and then suddenly they were walking together out of the library and up toward Gryffindor tower. She hadn’t found a way to bring up Professor Potter again, opting instead to let the conversation flow naturally.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?” Charlie asked her so suddenly that she almost tripped over her feet in surprise.

“Erm. Not too much besides trying to get some homework done, I suppose. There’s a Halloween feast isn’t there? I thought Mary mentioned one.”

“That’s right. There’s a group of us carving pumpkins and decorating the Great Hall tomorrow. It’s myself, Malone - the Head Girl - and some prefects. But we could always use another hand if you’re interested. And you wouldn’t have to stay the whole time, just pop down even.”

Lily could hardly think of a less enjoyable way to spend her Saturday, her mind immediately transported back to carving pumpkins with Petunia as a child. It never ended well. But Caradoc’s words flashed through her mind like a pesky reminder to say yes.

“That sounds fun.”

“Brill,” he said, smiling brightly at her.

***

The next day Lily allowed herself a small lie-in, relishing in a particularly pleasant dream that involved her no longer posing as a seventeen-year-old. When she finally mustered the energy to begin her day, it didn’t slow down for a moment, between grabbing a quick breakfast, stopping by the library, then coming back to the common room to work on homework assignments with Mary and Marlene. She had a feeling her day would get away from her quickly once she finished lunch.

By the time she ventured back to the Great Hall, thirty or so minutes after lunch had ended, it was already looking more festive. A number of students were there, including Charlie who was standing at the end of the Hufflepuff table closest to the Entrance Hall. Directly behind him at the Ravenclaw table was Head Girl Anna Malone. Several prefects were also lining the two center-most house tables, further into the hall than either Charlie or Anna stood.

“Lily! You made it,” Charlie said as soon he spotted her tentatively walking through the doorway and into the hall.

“Yeah, of course,” she said, wishing she were anywhere else. “I wouldn’t have missed it.”

He was already bent over a rather large pumpkin, his wand carefully tracing a standard three-tooth jack-o-lantern face into it. Most of the students there were doing the same, quiet as they concentrated on their magical artistry. Up by the staff table, there were a couple more students with their wands out as they hung streamers and enchanted fake bats to hover in the air.

“Here, let me show you how to do this,” Charlie said, suddenly standing up straight and beckoning her closer.

She obliged, listening attentively as he talked her through the process, including the spells and wand movements necessary. She indulged him by listening, having no need for advisement but pretending otherwise as much as it displeased her.

“We’ve been collecting the insides for the house-elves to use for pies, and you can just put what you get on the end there. So… that’s it. Help yourself to whatever you’d like,” he finished, pointing to the corner of the hall.

Lily hadn’t paid close attention when she walked in, but at Charlie’s gesture discovered the entire corner of the hall next to the doors was littered with pumpkins of various sizes. But what provided more of a shock for her was seeing Professor Potter, who was standing alone at the Gryffindor table, in the middle of carving a pumpkin.

“Big fan of pumpkin carving, Professor?” she asked when she got close enough to call to him. He didn’t look up at her, but she swore there was a small twitch to his lips.

“Less than you’d think based on my current situation.”

“Professor Potter is the staff chaperon, more like,” Charlie supplied, stifled laughter in his voice.

“We wouldn’t need a supervisor if it weren’t for _you_ , Fawcett,” Anna Malone said, passing by Lily who was making her way back to the Hufflepuff table. Anna’s tone was accusatory but there was a small pull on the corner of her mouth that gave her away.

“How was I to know the duplicating charm would work so well?” Charlie replied cheekily, brushing Anna’s shoulder as they walked past each other, Charlie now heading to grab another pumpkin for himself.

“Didn’t you re-institute the tradition of Head Boy and Girl leading the Halloween feast decorating when you were Head Boy, Professor?” asked a prefect from Ravenclaw that Lily thought was called Amanda.

“A decision I regret to this very day,” Professor Potter replied solemnly. “Though it was just a matter of time before Professor McGonagall _suggested_ a faculty member oversee this. If I’ve learned anything from my years at Hogwarts, as a student _and_ now, it’s that you cannot trust prefects with severing charms.”

Laughter erupted from the students and Lily thought for the smallest moment, a look of extreme satisfaction spread across the professor’s face. But then he was stoic as ever as the students settled down again which left her wondering if she had imagined it.

Decorating pumpkins proved to be a very easy task for Lily. Not that she was particularly artistic herself. But she was very adept at the charms required for severing the pumpkin and extracting its innards. By the time she was finishing up her fourth pumpkin, she had drawn Charlie’s attention.

“Did you also learn how to be an expert pumpkin carver when schooled at home, Lily?”

“No actually, I’m just a gourd enthusiast if you must know. Don’t go spreading this hot gossip around, okay?”

Charlie laughed, along with a few of the students nearby enough to hear her. “And here, I thought you were just an expert Quidditch strategist. Now you’re telling me I have to reconcile the fact that you’re also a pumpkin carving aficionado?”

“What can I say, Charlie? I’m a girl of many talents.”

He grinned, waving his wand to remove the seeds from the pumpkin in front of him. “That reminds me. The Quidditch team loved your ideas today at practice. I think the feint you suggested was the perfect thing we needed to finish off that play.” She looked up from her severing charm to see his grin had gone wider. She couldn’t help but smile in response. “We tried it out today and it’s going to take some practice but the team is on board.”

“That’s great. Hopefully, it gives you the leg-up you need to trounce Hufflepuff.” A couple of faces turned unhappily to her at these words. She shrugged sheepishly before saying, “Oops, sorry.”

To avoid their gazes, Lily walked away from the Hufflepuff table, around to the Gryffindor table where Professor Potter was now in the process of charming the pumpkins various colors. There were scripted letters on them that corresponded to the Hogwarts houses and it took her a moment to realize he was charming them to be the house colors as well.

“These look great,” she said, as she picked up a red and gold pumpkin and studied the ‘G’.

“It would appear you’re not the only pumpkin carving aficionado, Miss Evans,” he said, as he moved on from coloring charms to levitation.

She felt her cheeks warming at this silly little joke, not realizing at the time that he probably heard most of her conversations with Charlie over the last hour. “I’m hardly worthy of that title. _You’re_ an artist.”

He laughed in response. “I don’t know that I’d go _that_ far. I do enjoy creating things, but I wouldn’t put anything to do with pumpkins on that list.”

“I know what you mean,” she said, pulling her wand out to assist him with his decorating. “I’ve never been a big fan of carving pumpkins.”

His eyes finally turned from his task to look at her, though she didn’t notice, as occupied as she was moving the green and silver pumpkins over toward the Slytherin table. “And yet you voluntarily agreed to do just that thing…” His voice drifted off with a small clear of his throat.

Her cheeks were starting to flush again but she ignored it. “Just trying to get the whole seven years of Hogwarts experiences in one, Professor.”

He nodded his response as though he understood her inclination to do so.

Lily made it another hour of pumpkin carving, before politely excusing herself from the Hall with a cheerful wave to Charlie and a few other prefects who bade her farewell. She tossed one last look over her shoulder as she left, just as Anna casually moved over to the Hufflepuff table to start working next to Charlie. Lily smiled. Yes, there was something there, if only Charlie would stop being too thick to see it.

***

It became very apparent to Lily during her walk back to Gryffindor Tower that the entire school was already abuzz with enthusiasm for the upcoming feast. Mary and Marlene told her there would be mouth-watering food and confections, as well as festive decorations and entertainment of some kind arranged by the teaching staff. She did her best to seem equally thrilled and anxious for the feast as her classmates but wasn’t sure her acting was up to snuff.

What interested her more than the feast, was the apparent after-party that Marlene mentioned off-handedly when Lily got back to the dormitory, intent on taking a nap after pumpkin carving. Unlike the post-Quidditch party, this one would be exclusive to sixth and seventh years, and without so many words, Marlene had made it clear there would be adult beverages to go along with the event. It was her first real Hogwarts party and she knew she couldn’t miss it. Though she did have a hard time imagining anything nefarious or even illegal would happen. Still, if there was any possibility something might happen, she wanted to be there.

The thought of this party is what kept her excited for the evening, though she channeled that toward the feast for outward appearances, plastering a smile on her face as she walked with her dorm mates down to dinner.

Her jaw dropped when she crossed the threshold of the hall. They had gone all out for it, setting a strong ambiance for the holiday. The lights were out, and the students trekking in used only the ominous glow of the numerous pumpkins scattered around the hall to see where they were walking. She thought she found one or two of her own as she entered, but she had no way to know for sure. The multicolored pumpkins that Professor Potter had charmed were glowing as well, but instead of being the traditional yellow hue of flickering candle-light, he seemed to have charmed it so the house colors on each were illuminated. It lit up the entire hall, in soft hazy hues that served as a guiding beacon for all students entering to find their table and housemates. He _was_ an artist.

“Wow,” Mary breathed out from her left. “This looks incredible.”

“Is this what it normally looks like?”

Marlene shook her head in response before realizing the low lighting made it difficult for her friends to see her, and besides, they were all busy looking around at the bats which had started gliding between the suspended pumpkins. “This is the best I’ve ever seen it decorated. Oi, Charlie! You guys out-did yourselves this year.”

Lily tried to follow Marlene’s gaze but it wasn’t until Charlie was right upon them that she could see his face.

“Thanks, Marley. It was a good haul of pumpkins this year, and your dorm mate is fairly proficient at carving them if you didn’t know.”

“Lily’s brilliant at everything, why would we be surprised to learn this?” Mary added, the ever-helpful (even if unwanted) wing-woman. Lily felt Mary bump shoulders with her and sent her a look before realizing Mary could hardly see her. “Let’s go get seats.”

“However will we find the Gryffindor table, though?” Marlene asked, in a tone of mock concern.

“I dunno, Mar. Maybe we should head toward those twenty scarlet and gold pumpkins? See if we have any luck over there.”

Lily stifled a small laugh at this, trailing behind the two until she felt a soft touch on her shoulder and turned to see Charlie had reached out to stop her.

“So, what do _you_ think? As an unbiased new student, of course. Purely for academic purposes.”

“Oh, of _course_. Charlie, I think this looks amazing! You and Anna should be very pleased.”

“Thanks, but it wasn’t just us,” said Charlie, though Lily could hear the smile in his voice. “It’s really Potter’s house pumpkins that bring it all together, isn’t it?”

Lily shrugged, though she suspected he couldn’t see it well. “That is a great addition to it all. But it all looks great.”

“Listen… the sixth and seventh years usually have a few drinks after the feast. Real lowkey, no-pressure evening—”

“Yeah, Marlene’s told me about that. Sounds like a lot of fun.”

“Definitely, yeah. So, I’ll see you there?”

“In our shared common room? Yeah, I think I’ll make an appearance,” she said in a tone she hoped conveyed teasing. For good measure, she bumped his arm in a light-hearted way.

“Right, right. Well, enjoy the feast, then. I’m tasked with getting everyone safely into the hall so I should go find Malone. I’ll see you after!”

“Bye,” she called, with a short wave, turning on her heel and marching toward the Gryffindor table.

It was a miraculous feat, how her eyes adjusted to the lowlights of the room once she was away from the entrance, and she was able to navigate around well enough to find Marlene and Mary with little problem. The hall looked even more stunning from her seated location at the table. Students were still funneling into the hall, but it was a slow-moving affair as most of them stopped or slowed down to take in the whole scene.

Once the final students had entered the hall, the doors closed with a satisfying thunk, and what little light the Entrance Hall provided was extinguished. It made the Great Hall all the more impressive, but only for a few minutes before the fires lining the hall burst into life, lighting the room up more as Dumbledore gave a brief speech of welcome and the food appeared.

Lily didn’t need to feign enjoyment of the feast. It was the first Halloween in a long time she could remember truly enjoying herself, even considering she spent a couple of hours earlier in the day carving pumpkins. Something about knowing she contributed to the celebration made her that much more excited to join in.

Between the dinner and dessert courses, the joyful chatter of the students was momentarily silenced as the pumpkins overhead began moving in synchronization. Lily looked toward the staff table and noticed that each Head of House had their wands aloft directing the pumpkins for their houses in intricate patterns. As the patterns grew more and more complex, small blasts of fireworks started exploding among them. An impressive blast concluded the display and the students broke into applause which was answered by short bows from the staff members.

She, Mary, and Marlene spent the rest of the evening laughing, and they were not alone. Spirits were high up and down the table, probably in no small part due to the copious amounts of sugar they were ingesting. Lily and her friends nicked some for the walk back to Gryffindor Tower.

The sixth and seventh years had the courtesy to give the younger students an hour in the common room before pulling rank and forcing them up the stairs for an early night. Shortly thereafter, Charlie and Paul emerged from their dormitory carrying several liquor bottles, and in no time at all Lily found a drink in one hand and her other tapping along to Emily Prewett’s _borrowed_ wireless.

Mary had retrieved a few issues of _Witch Weekly_ and had loaned them out to a couple of the sixth year girls. She and Marlene were in an amusing discussion about some of the latest wizarding world gossip, and trying, without much success, to get Lily to join in. She worked to emit an air of nonchalance about it, but the fact was, she was not well-versed in the current gossip of the wizarding world, her attention always elsewhere, concerned with the _real_ news. After a time, though, Lily attempted to engage with her friends and found it easier than she expected.

She made a point to fix all of her drinks, which, after the first, consisted entirely of punch. She couldn’t afford any slip-ups that came with a loose tongue, but to keep up appearances, she did her best to look more aloof and buzzed as time went on. The wireless continued to hum merrily, a few people swaying along when a particularly fun song came on. The most exciting part of the evening was the sixth years turning Exploding Snap into a drinking game. She was not quite clear on what those new rules entailed, and was not particularly interested to find out.

But all-in-all, it was a typical party and she never saw any of the students engage in inappropriate behavior (though she could have done without the set of snogging sixth years).

Charlie, she noticed, spent most of his time in group conversations, occasionally stopping over to where she sat with the other seventh year girls to have a casual chat. He didn’t pay particular attention to Lily or try to talk to her away from the group -- which she was unbelievably grateful for _and_ confused about -- until two and a half hours into the party when Lily finally decided she’d be better served sleeping than sitting around with drunk teenagers.

She said a polite goodnight to the room at large, which was responded to with varying levels of interest throughout the group, and was just about to climb the staircase when Charlie called to her.

“Hey, Lily!” His cheeks were flushed from whiskey, or brandy, or whatever his liquor of choice was for the evening.

“Oh, hi Charlie.”

“Heading to bed already?”

“Yeah,” she said, giving a small shrug as she turned away from the stairs to face him. “I’m knackered.”

“But we hardly got to talk tonight!”

Lily laughed, without thinking. “What d’you mean? You stopped by and talked to us at length about the _Witch Weekly_ edition released two months ago.”

Charlie’s face started flushing more at this. “Yeah, but that wasn’t…y’know, just _us_ talking.” She opened and closed her mouth. “I’m very much looking forward to our lunch at Hogsmeade.”

“Oh! Erm, me too, Charlie. I’m looking forward to seeing what all the fuss is about, with Hogsmeade, that is.” _Go to bed, Lily_.

“Hogsmeade is great,” Charlie continued, and if he heard her comment, he either ignored it or hadn’t registered what exactly she’d said. “Shame we can’t do the full day, but maybe we can walk around a bit after lunch?”

“Er…yeah, probably.”

“Excellent. Are you sure you don’t want to hang out for a bit longer?”

“I’m sure,” she said with a small smile.

Charlie nodded, leaning down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek (which made her face explode with color for some ridiculous reason). “Well, goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, Charlie. Don’t go _too_ crazy down here, yeah?”

“Me? Lily, I’m _Head Boy_.”

Halfway up the stairwell, her only response was to laugh.

***

“Are you sure you don’t want one?” Sirius asked for the third time, lounging casually across a small sofa that resided in the corner of James’ study.

James, who was leaning back in his chair with his feet propped on his desk, had half a mind to ignore him with a rude hand gesture but instead tapped the wrinkled piece of parchment on the desk with a flourish of his wand. “You know I told Minnie I would lead patrols tonight. Plus, I have to look after _you_ as well. Part of the agreement to let you visit me.”

Sirius laughed appreciatively as he sipped his alcoholic butterbeer. James had his own butterbeer, non-alcoholic but nonetheless enjoyable. “How long are you going to get away with using the map instead of doing the physical patrols?”

“I generally do the patrols, Padfoot. But tonight, it would be a risk to the students to allow you loose in the castle.”

“I still think we should go crash the Halloween party. It’d get them in a right state, wouldn’t it?”

James pulled the map from his desk and his eyes easily found the party in question. He had to look closely to see all of the small dots that were nearly on top of each other in the Gryffindor common room.

“You would have thought it was a good laugh not one year ago, Prongs.”

“And it would be. But let _them_ have a laugh this time,” James replied, setting the map back on his desk, next to the most recent edition of the _Daily Prophet_. “Especially the seventh years. They have no idea what they’ll be walking into come June.”

Sirius’ face darkened. “ _Bigotry_ bought and brought to you by Orion Black.”

“Catchy headline that, can’t imagine why the _Prophet_ rejected using it.”

“Same reason as anyone else, yeah? Fear. Fear of my fucking father. And he all but admits to this pureblood-mania, with his diplomatic smoke-blowing. The arsehole.”

“Have you heard from Reg—”

“No. He hasn’t returned my owls,” Sirius said, taking another long drink of his beer. James was immediately reminded of teenage Sirius, who masked his pain behind a facade of indifference. James didn’t buy it then, nor now. “Bit stupid of me, anyway, thinking it might be different. He’s been a lost cause since we were teenagers. But mummy and daddy are proud, I’m sure, so that’s _something_.”

“Yeah, something to boast about on the family Christmas card,” James agreed, tipping his drink in a mock-toast. “At least with all the inbreeding, it’s a short recipient list.”

Sirius, who had chosen an inopportune time to take a sip from his drink, clapped a hand over his face as he choked on his beer. “Prongs, warn a man before dropping one of those.”

“Apologies,” James said, with a grin, as he leaned down to open his desk drawer. A blur of gold came flying out and zoomed a few feet above James’ desk before he snagged it out of the air.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Nicked it,” James said with a shrug, letting the snitch loose again. “Hooch has plenty of spares, she won’t miss it.”

“Didn’t think to take a quaffle?” James pulled open the drawer again and palmed the ball in question before tossing it over to Sirius, who caught it just before it fell to the ground. “You still flying these days?”

“Some mornings, yeah. If I can get my arse up before breakfast and don’t feel like running. I still don’t prefer to do it when I could be seen.”

“Don’t want to show up the current players? How thoughtful of you, Prongs. Though I expect all of your off-the-field coaching reminds them that you could pick up a broomstick tomorrow and embarrass them. Has Hooch asked you to help referee yet?”

James shook his head, finishing off his butterbeer. “No, and I don’t expect her to for a while. She knows I work with the team captains on strategies, so it’s only fair I suppose.” And suddenly the conversation he had heard between Fawcett and Evans earlier in the day popped into his head. It had interested him at the time, to hear that she had come up with some suggestions Charlie deemed good enough to bring to the Gryffindor team. James hadn’t given it _much_ thought at the time but—

“I still can’t believe that. If I ever get my hands on a Time Turner, I’ve changed my mind on what I’d use it for—”

“No longer going back in time to invent the first modern motorbike?”

“What? ‘Course I would, that’s a brilliant idea. But if I had to choose only one thing to do, I’d go back to our third year to tell you that future you strategizes with the Slytherin Quidditch Captain.”

James laughed, finally bringing his feet off his desk to sit upright in his chair again, turning to face Sirius. “Pretty sure that breaks the first rule of time travel, mate.”

“True. And I likely wouldn’t be having this conversation with you right now if I had done so. Well, maybe Ghost-James, because you’d have died from shock. And rightfully so. _I_ still can’t believe you help the Slytherin team.”

“Padfoot, you know I help every captain one game a year, in whatever they request. Strategies, designing plays, conditioning, practice drills, whatever they need help with.”

“I _know_ but I don’t have to _like_ it. And since you’re forced to be unbiased, I will dislike it enough for the both of us.”

“Fair enough,” James said with a laugh. “Speaking of you, are you ever going to do something with your life or do you just plan to drink away your inheritance?”

“Good old uncle Al,” Sirius said with a solemn toast to the air. “I’m thinking about getting involved with politics. Use the Black name for something good, y’know, compared to the shite my family is up to.”

“I was being serious, Pads.”

“Well, I _am_ Sirius, and also, in this case _serious_.” But the joking mood left him abruptly, and James realized that he had completely forgotten about the snitch until it fluttered just above Sirius’ head. “They’re getting more brazen, the whole lot of them, feeling like they have a voice now with Umbridge and Riddle. And Riddle…”

“Dumbledore is concerned,” James said, frowning. “And if _he_ is concerned...”

“Guess I’ll just have to take up hexing blood purists in my free time again,” said Sirius, finishing his butterbeer and slamming the tankard onto the table next to him with a satisfying thud.

“Good platform, that is. It’ll certainly get you elected to office.” James’ voice trailed off as he picked up the _Prophet_ article again, which outlined in horrifying detail more proposed legislation, this time targeting Muggleborn witches and wizards. “Though the stakes will be a bit higher this time, I think, than a quarrel over the Quidditch pitch.”

“All the more reason to do it,” said Sirius. James could not help but agree, wishing for the smallest moment that he had opted for the alcoholic butterbeer just this once. “Someone’s got to stand up to it, and I don’t have much confidence in the current regime or hope for the future generation for that matter.”

“There could be hope for them yet.”

Sirius laughed mirthlessly. “Says who? You? Prongs, you’ve said no fewer than a hundred times how uninterested these students are in what’s happening outside of Hogwarts. Do you truly think they’d stand up to it? Fight against it?”

James shrugged, Evans once again coming to mind. The loathing on her face when they spoke about Umbridge, the despair when learning about the Hogwarts house-elves. “I know what I’ve said, but I’m not so sure anymore.”

“Why’s that?”

James had to stop himself from shrugging again. “It’s…nothing, really. Just, maybe I’m wrong is all.”

Sirius shook his head in vehement disagreement. “Prongs, nobody cares at seventeen. _We_ certainly did not. At least, not really. It was all about winning Quidditch matches and the next Hogsmeade weekend. Why should they be any different? Or be _expected_ to be different?”

“I never said I _expected_ them to be different” — though one seemed to be — “just that I could be wrong about their total indifference. _We_ could have cared.”

Sirius snorted. “In what alternative universe would we have cared?”

“In one where there was something beyond Quidditch matches and Hogsmeade to care about, Padfoot. How many times have you heard the word _Mudblood_ thrown around casually?”

“Not since I left Grimmauld.”

“Hardly ever when we were in school, yeah. Except, y’know, that time with Mulciber in the library.” Sirius nodded, gesturing James on with his hand. “I heard one fifth year say it to another last week. And I don’t believe for a second we wouldn’t have cared at seventeen, or even fifteen for that matter. I’m just saying we shouldn’t underestimate them. If some can be capable of hatred, others can be capable of empathy.”

“That’s fair,” Sirius said, not even attempting to stifle his yawn. “I hope they prove me wrong. And I hope even more that they don’t _need_ to, though that is looking less unlikely after every _Prophet_ edition lately it seems.”

James nodded in agreement, tossing another look at the map, happy to see the lack of movement in the corridors. “You’re crashing here tonight. I’m going to do a quick patrol around the castle, feel free to settle in.” James rose to his feet, pulling his cloak over his shoulders before tucking the map into his pocket. “Do me a favor and don’t go wandering the castle or I _will_ hex you. And don’t turn into Padfoot and get fur all over my bed.”

Sirius laughed in response as James reached the door of his study. “We need to get you laid, mate.”

He responded with a very undignified hand gesture before exiting the room, Sirius’ renewed laughter fresh in his mind. Whatever his hand had said, he knew he was thrilled to have the company of his best friend.

***

“Thanks, Professor,” Melanie Abbott told him the next day as she exited his office after their one-on-one less concluded.

“Have a good night,” he responded, sitting back down at his desk. He only had a few minutes before the final one-on-one that afternoon but he still wanted to take the time to start grading the quizzes he’d set the third years the previous Friday.

He got into a routine fairly quickly, and suddenly found himself finishing up his fifth quiz when he looked at his watch. Miss Evans was already five minutes late. This was very unlike her, but as it was a Sunday session - particularly one just after Halloween - he pursed his lips for only the smallest moment then tucked back into the stack of quizzes. Two quizzes and five minutes later, he looked at his watch again, growing slightly concerned. Before allowing himself to get annoyed, he reached for his office desk draw in search of the map. But just as his hand reached the handle, the door to his office swung open again.

“Sorry, Professor,” Lily said, marching into the room, her bag swinging behind her, her voice slightly raspy.

“Is everything all right, Miss Evans?” he asked, standing up as she drew closer. She was now close enough for him to see her eyes were rimmed red as though she had been crying. She was clutching something with a vice-like grip. He distinguished anger, not sadness, on her face.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I finally got a moment to read yesterday’s _Prophet_ and once I started, I couldn’t stop.” He watched her, waiting, knowing, somehow, that she wanted to say more. “Have you seen it?” She held it toward him. It was difficult to see any headlines due to the accordion folds she’d crushed into it but she didn’t seem to mind explaining further. “More proposed legislation and a campaign launching for this Riddle character. He’s advocating for the registration of _Muggleborns_ , and those with _potentially dangerous pro-Muggle leanings_.”

James swallowed, of course, very aware of what she was talking about.

“Yes, I did read that,” he answered, delicately.

“Between him and Umbridge, I _can’t—_ I just—” She closed her mouth, finally dropping down into the seat nearest her. “Sorry. I know you set this time aside for extra lessons, I shouldn’t be going on about this.”

“No. No need to apologize. It is _extremely_... I… I have been talking about this at length,” he said, lingering awkwardly behind his desk still, unsure of where to go, wishing he could be more articulate. “Do you want to go back to your dorm…and talk to your friends? We can postpone the lesson until next week. I really don’t mind.”

She looked at him blankly. “Talk to Marlene and Mary? Oh, no. They have no interest in _politics_ as they call it - as if this is just simple _disagreement_ … But I can’t blame them for wanting to enjoy their last year at school. They’re not looking beyond the next Hogsmeade weekend.”

The word so closely resembled Sirius’ from the evening before that James felt a bit queasy. He looked uneasily at her as she studied the paper again though he could tell she wasn’t reading it, as her eyes barely moved. He also knew he wasn’t any more equipped now to handle a crying seventeen-year-old than when he was seventeen himself.

“I’m sorry, that must be incredibly difficult. To feel like you have no one to talk to.”

“The whole thing is just so infuriating. First Umbridge, now this Riddle, who must be receiving funds from _somewhere_ , likely some of the pureblood elites like the Malfoys and Blacks. Merlin, they’re even quoted in the article voicing their _support_. They couldn’t make it plainer where they stand and yet where is the outrage? _I_ care about Muggles, my family… I have Muggle family members. And Mary… Mary is _Muggleborn_.” She forced herself to stop again. “I’m sorry. You know, I think…postponing would probably be for the best.”

James worked hard to keep his mouth from gaping open, as he studied her again, in the way that was becoming too common. He didn’t know why he was still surprised by her.

“Certainly, of course. Not a problem at all. Whenever you’re up for it, add your name to the sign-up sheet again.”

“Thanks,” she said, standing up.

“Do you want to … err, that is. If you need to talk about it, well…” His voice drifted off and he opened his palm as though welcoming further conversation. He already spoke to her more than the average student, but it wasn’t until this moment that he realized she felt she didn’t have anyone _else_ to talk to about these sorts of things.

Her lips quirked upward in a small, sad smile, but she shook her head. “Thanks, Professor. But… I think I should just go.”

He nodded, understanding, watching her secure her bag over her shoulder before beginning to walk toward the door. “Miss Evans,” he called out, stopping her in her tracks. She turned slightly on her heel to look at him. “There is outrage. _I_ am outraged, and as a pureblood, I can’t even begin to fathom what this is like for Muggleborns. But I have people I care about, too, who are targets for people like Umbridge and Riddle. And people like us - you, and me, and Headmaster Dumbledore, the _outraged_ \- we will fight.”

Not for the first time, she looked like _she_ was trying to figure out just who he was. Like he was some mystery to solve, the key to a puzzle she was trying to complete. He couldn’t make sense of it, this presence she had, that made him feel scrutinized, under evaluation. There was nothing she needed to know about him, yet she tried to learn him anyway. And it didn’t appear like the other girls who might have taken a fancy to him when he was a couple of years older in school. It didn’t seem motivated by an immature place of adoration, which made it all the more confusing and alarming. He had never met a seventeen-year-old like her.

Finally, she nodded.

“Historically Hogwarts hasn’t done the best job supporting its students — but, if you need someone to talk to and don’t feel like you can confide in any of your friends, you can always come to the staff and talk about your... concerns.”

She laughed at this, looking away from him now and shaking her head. “Can you imagine me going to Professor Slughorn and telling him I’m _concerned_ that wizarding society — led by the Ministry of Magic — is going to start targeting Muggleborns? Can you imagine the reaction, his off-handed laughter before he offers me some of his favorite crystallized pineapples?”

He was grateful his brown skin masked some of the warmth that had crept onto his cheeks. “Well, yeah. But have you considered how delicious he finds crystallized pineapple? So, I mean, he’d consider that a great gesture. And it’s the thought that matters, isn’t that what they say?”

Shaking her head in disbelief, she turned to look at him again, her hands holding the strap of her bag still on her shoulder. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but even you’ve had to notice most people are happier to go on with their lives with whatever comforts they have. Because things like _this_ don’t directly impact _them_.”

“That was a badly timed joke, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to justify or excuse the indifference in our world. But there are _good_ people still and people who will choose to do good things. You may have to look, but you’ll find them. And they’ll be the ones fighting alongside you.” He felt scrutinized under her stare but that didn’t prevent him from continuing. “And —admittedly — some professors are better than others if you need to talk, but you can always talk to _me_. Because I agree with you, things are looking worse than I’ve ever seen. Frankly, I wish more students your age _cared_. So, while perhaps you may feel alone when talking to your classmates and friends, know that you aren’t truly alone.”

She nodded slowly. “Thank you.” And for a moment he thought she was going to dissolve into tears again, but the thickness in her voice was controlled when she spoke again. “I should go.”

He nodded this time, saying goodbye as she turned and walked out of the door. He settled himself back behind his desk, rubbing his hands over his face before looking toward the door again. Sighing, he resumed his grading.

***

She hadn’t intended to talk to him about it. She had intended to walk into the lesson, put on a brave face, and attempt to steer the conversation toward Quidditch, which seemed an easy enough task. But as she left the common room and walked toward his classroom, the anger boiled in her stomach until she felt almost queasy with rage. Then she saw him. Sitting so casually behind his desk, not a care in the world besides grading homework assignments, and then for some reason, she wanted to bring him into _her_ reality.

Well, he couldn’t _know_ it was her reality. Everyone at Hogwarts believed her to be a Halfblood, not a Muggleborn. But she knew pretending to be something didn’t make it so.

She found that the rage she wanted to take out didn’t make her feel better. He had seemed so concerned. Concerned to the point where he offered to listen to her and be a point of confidence. He said he was outraged. He said he would fight. And she believed him.

Her life was starting to feel a bit like a cliché to her and that was the last thing she wanted it to be. Yet it was, she lamented sardonically, as she acknowledged for the first time that she had a very real crush on him. She wouldn’t classify it as a schoolgirl crush one would associate with a young girl and a cute older guy. It was a _real_ crush, a _the more I learn about you the more I like you_ crush, a _butterflies explode in my stomach whenever you look at me_ crush. But most notable of all - it was a _never_ _going to happen in a million years_ crush.

***

_Caradoc_

_Nothing of major note to report about Halloween. The party I was invited to in the Gryffindor common room was surprisingly tame, apart from the underage drinking of course. And before I forget - I’ve been hanging out with the Head Boy more and agreed to have lunch with him at Hogsmeade. We’re going to have to cut our meeting short next weekend._

_Lily_


	5. Village Ventures

_Lily_

_I have to run to the office before I meet you Saturday. See you at 10 at the Three Broomsticks._

_Caradoc_

_***_

Seeming intent to make up on the lost conversations during the Halloween party, Charlie wasted no time inviting Lily to join him and the other seventh year boys in the library as they worked on their homework assignments throughout the next week. Mary and Marlene happily tagged along to these excursions, for which Lily was grateful. Little actual talking took place during these sessions, but the conversations that did happen encompassed the entire group. 

As the Hogsmeade weekend drew closer, Lily found herself dreading it more and more, wishing she had been able to say no to his lunch proposal. 

She knew she should have been flattered to have his attention and interest, if the sixth year Hufflepuffs who were glaring at her from the table over were any indication. She likewise knew that she wouldn’t have an interest in Charlie even if she _were_ actually seventeen or he were her age. 

If anything should have motivated her to appreciate the time with Charlie, it should have been sparked by the person she was truly interested in. In the few days that had passed since their shortened one-on-one lesson, Lily had grown embarrassed by her outburst. Of course, he had been kind and encouraging, while she raved on with truly little substance.

She wouldn’t go so far as to say she was avoiding him. How could one even avoid their professor when there were classes to go to? 

Yet what she used to see as a positive — how comfortable she and James appeared to be when talking to each other — now became troublesome. She had to remind herself she was there for a job, not to moon over a professor, regardless of how good-looking and intelligent he was. And regardless of her feelings, she couldn’t let them get in the way of her assignment. If he truly was showing favoritism toward the Gryffindor Quidditch team and there was a story there that deserved exposing, she _needed_ to write it. She knew regardless of what happened with the exposé, nothing would ever happen between the two of them.

With any luck, she’d move on to the next assignment and forget all about him or casually recall the experience and remember him fondly.

But that seemed less and less like a possibility in the week leading up to Hogsmeade weekend.

On Thursday evening, the Gryffindors found themselves tackling a nasty Potions essay set by Professor Slughorn which led to more of a discussion in the group than they’d had all week, including a heated debate between Charlie and fellow seventh year Paul Stebbins.

“We don’t have the book we _need_ for this,” Paul said, dropping his book onto the table in frustration. The thud broke the concentration of everyone else at the table; Mary jumped.

“Slughorn said otherwise, mate,” said Charlie, picking up his quill, keen on finishing the line in his essay he was writing before Paul’s interruption. 

“Then why is it I can’t find anything about the properties of ecliptic brewing in this chapter?”

“Dunno, maybe you were dropped on your head as an infant?”

The other seventh year boys chuckled appreciatively in response, though the girls at least had the mind to stifle their laughter behind their books.

“Sod off, Charlie, I’m being serious. I have a feeling there is a book in the Restricted Section that has the information we need.”

“If that were so, don’t you think Slughorn would have let us know? Given us permission slips for the Restricted Section?”

“Maybe he’s forgotten that permission notes are required?”

“Hardly seems likely,” Charlie said dismissively, “as he was the one involved with Potter and Mulciber, wasn’t he?”

“Hell if I remember—”

“He was,” Mary confirmed.

“We were there, too,” Marlene added, almost as if it were a badge to proudly don on her school uniform like Charlie’s Head Boy pin.

Curiosity got the better of her, though Lily knew she would have been interested to know regardless of James’ involvement in whatever they were discussing. “What happened? You’ve all lost me.”

“Sorry, Lily. We sometimes forget you haven’t been here this whole time,” Mary said, reaching out to touch Lily’s arm. “The Restricted Section used to be fully open to upperclassmen — sixth and seventh years — to use as needed for homework, essays, even extracurricular reading for career studies. But there was an incident there I think when we were second years?”

“Yes,” Marlene confirmed.

“We only saw the end result with Slughorn escorting Mulciber and Potter out of the Restricted Section. It was terrifying, actually, they both were ready to tear each other apart—” 

“—with their bare hands! I’ve never seen Potter so furious about something.”

“So, _that’s_ what locked down the Restricted Section for regular use?”

“For a time,” Charlie said. “The rumors were wild at the time, I’d forgotten that. We haven’t talked about this in _ages_. I think the professors were actually trying to get us all to shut up about it. Most of those who remember the incident have since graduated. But rumor around the Quidditch team — and I don’t know how much this was confirmed by Potter, mind — was that Potter overheard Mulciber planning to use dark magic on a Muggleborn witch.” Charlie looked around at Mary, as if asking permission, but she stared levelly back at him. “Though I don’t think that’s the m-word Mulciber had used. Potter confronted him, with a hex rather than words, and they wound up blowing up a couple of shelves while dueling.”

“Whatever happened to the witch?”

“She was fine. Whatever Mulciber was _allegedly_ planning, nothing actually came of it. Whether from Potter or the professors stepping in, I can’t say. But from what I remember, Mulciber was a real arsehole. So, I’ll bet anything he was _going_ to do something.”

“He was a _creep_ ,” said Mary, sounding more impassioned than Lily had ever heard her.

“Sounds it,” Lily said, though her voice sounded higher pitched than normal. “Well, it was a good thing Professor Potter stepped in, I suppose.”

The group murmured their general agreement to this statement before going back to their essays, though Paul was still grumbling under his breath as he picked his textbook back up. Lily picked up hers, but she was only pretending to read.

Caradoc had never mentioned that the event surrounding the closing of the Restricted Section, which happened during his time at school, involved such a thing. Admittedly, she hadn’t pressed him on the subject. But then she thought he would have been forthcoming about something like _this_ — a _duel_ in the library between two students, one of which was now a _professor_ — and therefore wouldn’t have had to interrogate him on it. Granted, this new piece of information didn’t do anything to directly impact her article topic.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t impact _her_.

It would impact anyone, any _Muggleborn_ , to hear what he had done. It was only natural for her fondness for him to grow after hearing the story. She already knew he would stand up to the injustices he witnessed _now_ , but hearing that back _then_ at sixteen he was standing up to it, too... When there were things like Quidditch matches and Hogsmeade weekend, and the number of other things she knew the students sitting around her thought more about than the growing unrest in the wizarding world.

She was fond of him for his strength of character.

But there was a squirm in her stomach for another reason. The feelings that had been slowly creeping up, in spite of her two-handed effort to push them back down again, hide them away as though once hidden they’d also cease to exist.

She knew she had to reconcile these feelings she had for him one way or another. They lessened her objectivity. For all she knew, James was the ringleader behind the imagined illegal potion ingredients ring or was giving Charlie an unfair advantage on the Quidditch pitch. (She didn’t believe it, but she didn’t _know_ it to be untrue.) The two hands in her mind shoved with all their might, to push thoughts of him, her feelings, and this recent story, far away. 

With Hogsmeade weekend in fewer than two days, she grew hopeful that seeing Caradoc again after a long time apart would bring her back into the reality of the real world that she was having difficulty clinging to at times. He would help her regain objectivity, and help her to sort through her thoughts and ideas. If there was a story she was overlooking, she was confident Caradoc would help her see it.

She kept this in mind for the rest of Thursday and tried to harness it again to get through her last two classes of the week on Friday. She made a point to walk with Charlie to Defense, talking again about Quidditch — though Gryffindor wouldn’t play again until after Christmas. Charlie was eager to see the next match, which was coming up at the end of November, between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. He would be scouting the game, to analyze some of the Hufflepuff team tactics and strengths ahead of Gryffindor’s match against them. Charlie was telling her all about it as they walked into the Defense classroom behind Mary and Marlene. Her heart jumped when her eyes fell on James. 

He was sitting at his desk, his hand grasping the top of his neck, curling through his hair. He greeted them with a brief hello, not looking up from the parchment he was studying evidently in great detail. Lily tore her eyes away from him, out of necessity more than want. She had to get a grip on reality.

She spent the better part of the class period averting her gaze from James as much as possible, which proved to be a challenge considering he was lecturing for most of the class period. She stared downward at the parchment she was using diligently to take notes as he spoke. However, at the end of the class, he said something that captured all of her attention.

“One final thing before you all leave. I am setting an extra credit assignment opportunity that is available through the rest of this term. The extra credit assignment will raise the score on your lowest exam one grade higher.” The students erupted in conversation at this, the professor waiting patiently for a moment before clearing his throat to quiet them once more. “In order to receive the extra credit, you must read two articles from the _Daily Prophet_ , one to summarize and one to talk to me about. There are no requirements for these articles with the exception that they must be from the true editorial of the paper. No sports or gossip columns, no leisure sections. I want the real heart of the paper, articles about the Ministry of Magic, proposed legislation, governing councils such as the Wizengamot, those sorts of things.” 

The group of students had gone quiet as he continued speaking. Lily felt like she was outside of her own body. 

“This may seem like an easy assignment for such a major reward, and I hope it is easy for you to do. But the intention is to impress upon you all the importance of becoming informed young adults. You are all of age and will be considered full wizards the moment you step out these doors for the final time in June. Regardless of where your life takes you, you will _always_ benefit from being informed about the world around you. Enjoy your trip to Hogsmeade tomorrow.”

Understanding this to be dismissal, groups of students immediately turned to each other, and the room buzzed with intrigued and excited voices talking over one another. Mary was saying something to her and Marlene, but Lily’s eyes were still locked on James as he surveyed the classroom for a moment before returning to the seat behind his desk.

“Lily?”

“What? Oh, sorry, Mare. What did you say?”

“I was asking if we could read your copy of the _Prophet_ for the assignment. You have a subscription, don’t you?”

Lily tore her eyes away from James and turned to look at Mary. “I do. And certainly, of course, you can read it. Whenever you’d like.”

“Thanks. I could really use a bump on that A I got last exam.”

Well, it was a start at least. Lily nodded, turning her attention back to pack her notes away, as the rest of the class continued to talk while packing their supplies. Lily decided to linger, as Mary and Marlene headed toward the door. 

“Coming, Lily?” Charlie asked, slinging his own bag over his shoulder as he turned away from the conversation he was having with Stebbins.

“I’ll meet you there. I have a quick question for Professor Potter.”

Charlie nodded, clasping a hand on Paul’s shoulder as they turned to leave the classroom. Lily had to fight the blush that was building on her cheeks once she realized she was alone with James. He was still at his desk, pouring over a paper of some kind, unaware that she had stayed behind based on the way his hand came up to rub between his eyes. He pushed his glasses up to his forehead before taking them off and setting them on the desk. After scrubbing his hands over his face, he finally noticed her with a slight startle, his hand flying up to put the glasses back on.

“Miss Evans, sorry, I hadn’t seen you hanging back. Do you have a question about the extra credit? I assure you, you’ve already completed the assignment.”

“I wanted to say that I think it is a brilliant assignment, Professor.” Her heart thumped so loudly it was a wonder to her that he couldn’t hear it. She didn’t understand how he couldn’t see all of her thoughts — and feelings — painted on her face, unwavering.

“Well, I do owe you some of the credit,” he said, after a small pause. “You inspired me last weekend. I meant it when I said I wish more students were like you. Then I got to thinking — instead of accepting it as a part of life for the seventh years, how about I get them talking about things they have previously ignored? It’s my job to prepare them for adult life out of Hogwarts. Does that not also include trying to get them to be the most well-educated and thoughtful _people_ they can be?”

She stared — no, gaped at him, before realizing it and planting a small, soft smile on, and nodding. “I think so. I hope so, anyway. I think this will be great. I just wanted to tell you that.” He smiled kindly at her, Professor Potter replaced by James — her heart _soared_. “I should go.”

“Enjoy your lunch,” he told her with a short nod.

“Thanks. You too.”

She was not two steps away from the classroom door when she realized she was _sunk_. Sunk in a way she did not expect to change. Sunk in the way that indicated the best course of action moving forward was to embrace what cannot be changed and move on from it. So what if she had feelings for him? People started fancying other people _all the time_. That didn’t mean she would be incapable of doing what she was sent on this assignment to do. She was a professional, not a _real_ seventeen-year-old, controlled by feelings and whimsy. It was long past time to start acting like it.

***

In the earlier part of the week, Marlene and Mary had vocalized their eagerness to spend Lily’s first foray into Hogsmeade village with her by occasionally interrupting conversations to remind each other of all the places to take Lily. After the fourth such occurrence, Lily had finally decided it was time for her to come clean on the truth about her plans for the Hogsmeade trip.

Well not the _whole_ truth, but as much of it as she could tell them.

The questions had come rapid-fire after that on Wednesday.

“Who is he?”

“Didn’t Charlie ask you out?”

“ _Dearborn?_ As in—”

“Why wouldn’t you say yes to _Charlie?”_

_“You’re meeting them both?!”_

“BOTH?!”

By the time she had patiently explained the situation to them, she was greatly regretting it, though there was not much she could do about it now that they knew. Thankfully, they didn’t bother her about it for long, both of them of the mindset that they were happy she had attention from one of the most handsome boys in their year, and a nice-looking older guy (though they had barely remembered him from his time at school). Lily gave up insisting that there was nothing except platonic feelings between her and Caradoc early on the morning of the trip, as the girls got ready for the day outside the castle. And despite them not planning to go together, Mary and Marlene still spent the walk down to the village reminding her of all the shops she should try to visit. She thanked them, making a mental note of a few to try to go to, but knowing it might be futile with her already prearranged schedule.

She had to admit it was nice to have regular clothing instead of the school uniform on, even if only for a short while outside of the castle. She ran her hands across the hem of her jumper just before pulling the door open to the Three Broomsticks. 

She was met with an immediate feeling of coziness as she stepped into the pub. From what she could tell, the room was filled with mostly adult wizards, who were catching a late breakfast or early lunch before the students came. Multiple fires roared from around the room which had vaulted, wood-trimmed ceilings below which hung brass, candle-lit chandeliers. A curvaceous barmaid was standing in front of one of the crowded tables that was roaring with laughter. Lily scanned the room until her eyes fell on a familiar face. She could not help the smile that broke over her face as she locked eyes with him.

“Caradoc,” she said, once she was within earshot of him.

“Lily,” he greeted, returning a grin back at her. Caradoc’s warm brown eyes studied her, in the naturally quizzical way he surveyed most things. She used to think Caradoc was classically handsome, with his strong chin and sharp features, and casual air of mystery that came with him playing his cards close to his vest at all times. And maybe she still might think of him that way, but it seemed much less notable to her now than before she started the assignment. She _accepted_ the reason why that was and moved on. “Here. How are you doing?” he asked, sliding a butterbeer tankard over to her.

“Thank you,” she said, bringing it to her nose and realizing it wasn’t _only_ butterbeer she was smelling. She smiled appreciatively. “I’m all right. It’s great to see you. I’ve been starved for some real adult conversation.”

“I can imagine. But you can’t be doing all bad, having scored yourself a date to the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year.”

Lily didn’t even attempt to hide the grimace on her face. “I’d rather have said no, but I knew I couldn’t pass the opportunity up.”

“Right you are,” Caradoc said cheerfully, gesturing to her with the glass that was raised nearly to his lips. 

But before Caradoc could go any further, Lily cut him off. “So, what’s going on with things? What are they saying at the _Prophet_ about what’s going on at the Ministry right now?”

Caradoc blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you been keeping up with things? The newest proposed legislation from Umbridge—”

Realization relaxed his features, turning Lily’s stomach. “That thing? Wizard Protection Act? Sounded reasonable from the highlights I read.”

_Reasonable?_ She gaped. “You can’t be serious, Caradoc—”

“Lily. I wouldn’t worry about it. The Ministry’s been at a stalemate for weeks on it.”

“And what about the campaign being launched for _Riddle_? Is he _reasonable_ too?”

Caradoc gazed calmly back at her but shifted uncomfortably in his seat, telling her she knew he was not going to back down but was uncomfortable about the situation he found himself in. “Radical politics, Lily. Look, I understand what your concern is but we really need to discuss the matter at hand here. Walk me through your thoughts on the article.”

She turned away, her glare now focused on the next table over. She bit out, almost childishly, “Well, I didn’t bring my notes—”

“That’s fine. I’ve seen your notes in letters. Notes are fine, of course, but I think _talking_ through your experiences will probably benefit you more in the long run.”

Lily begrudgingly nodded in agreement. “You know what angle I started with of course—the Restricted Section—”

“Yeah, a nonstarter, I’d say. Maybe a throwaway mention some people would find interesting, but nothing front-page worthy.”

Lily wasn’t surprised by his reaction, but the story about James was too fresh in her mind and sent her stomach aflutter. “Err, okay. Then came the house-elves, which quickly proved to be a dead-end. But there is still some interesting history around the house-elf population at Hogwarts. I’d bet most people don’t know about it—”

“These ideas are all good for the nostalgic reader, who will read it over tea and maybe think about it for a week. But what we are looking for is something everyone will talk about for _weeks_. Something we can build a special edition around with the other supporting pieces. Really move the needle, liven people up.”

“I understand. I’m _trying_ , Caradoc. But I still think I can create something akin to ‘The Life of a Hogwarts’ student, and cover all the different areas of the student life, how it’s changed over the years, how it’s continuing to evolve or not evolve…”

But Lily’s voice trailed off as she witnessed James enter. His eyes immediately swept the pub with a quick, studying look, before he pinpointed his target — a very good-looking man with shoulder-length black hair — and marched toward him.

“Ah, _Professor_ Potter. How is he as a professor, by the way? Inquiring minds want to know.”

Lily, who hadn’t realized Caradoc had followed her eyes across the room, planted a sarcastic smirk on her face as she processed these words. “Inquiring minds, Caradoc?”

“Well, min _d_ really. I’m supremely interested to know.” 

“He’s all right,” Lily said, manufacturing nonchalance into her voice where there previously was none. The _last_ thing she needed was to tip Caradoc off on her growing feelings for James. And if it weren’t the last thing she needed, it was pretty damn close to it. “You went to Hogwarts with him, is that right?”

“Yes, I did. I still can’t believe he is a professor. Believe me, if you had been in school with us, you’d think the same.”

Thinking back on the story she’d just heard in the library, she knew she would certainly not have thought the same. But she only shrugged in response to Caradoc, not at all interested to argue about this with him.

“He’s pretty strict most times, from what I’ve seen.” She left it at that, despite the discomfort of lying that was growing in her chest. _He’s also kind, and giving, and thoughtful, extremely intelligent…and he_ cared _._ Most of those things didn’t matter to Caradoc, and she knew they shouldn't matter to _her_ either. But one mattered more than anything.

“Sounds like he’s overcompensating for his past, in that case.” When Lily didn’t immediately respond, Caradoc moved on. “Walk me again through the incident in the Potions’ classroom. What exactly did you see?”

She wanted to sigh in relief of the subject change. “I’m still actively looking into it. I think I have almost discovered who the fifth year student was…”

***

“Did you oversleep?” Sirius asked once James had settled himself into the seat next to him.

“Good morning to you as well. Considering it’s my day off I decided to have a lie-in this morning. Is that all right with you, Mr. Black?”

“You didn’t tell me you took the day off! Why did we meet here then? You could’ve come ‘round the flat. Moony’s still peakish from earlier this week, and you would’ve lifted his spirits with a visit.”

“Must have slipped my mind. Let’s go to the flat then,” said James, making to rise from his chair.

“After lunch. I already gave Rosie our order to put in once you arrived. Ah, there she is.”

“Hello, _Professor_ Potter,” Rosie said, her usual admiring smile lighting her face as she set his drink down.

“How many times do I have to tell you _James_ is still fine, Rosie?”

She laughed, but any response she was planning to give was cut off by Sirius. “Oi, bad form, Rosie. Flirting with the appetizer in front of the main course.”

“Oh, the cheek on you, Sirius Black,” she said, shaking her head despite the cat that ate the canary grin on her face. “Your food will be out in a mo.” 

“Thank you.”

“Cheers, Rosie.”

Sirius made a point to watch her walk away, and James couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “For someone who couldn’t give a Wormtail’s behind about having a relationship or any form of real companionship, you sure put on a good show of it.”

“Sounds like the words of a man who has been without a lady far too long. Let’s rectify that _today_.”

James laughed as if it were so easy. “I hardly have the time for a relationship, Padfoot. We’ve spoken about this before.”

“Who said anything about getting you a relationship? And you know you’d have _more_ time if you moved back to London and just flooed into work every day. You’re aware there’s no reason for you to live at Hogwarts?”

“There’s no reason for me to _not_ be at Hogwarts. It’s helpful for some of the professors who actually have spouses and children for me to be there for patrols and emergencies.”

“ _No reason_? You left me to share the flat with Moony, who _snores_ —”

“Padfoot, you lived with him for nearly a decade at Hogwarts and this was _news_ to you when he moved into the flat?”

“Prongs, you don’t realize — he’s a real window-rattler.”

“I don’t have plans to move back to London, Padfoot.”

“Then fine, get a flat here, in Hogsmeade then. We could move here.”

James sipped his drink. “You’ve made your position on this very plain over the last few years, Padfoot. I get it, you miss me.”

Sirius laughed, thumping James on the shoulder. “That and I miss you having a social life. You’re a terrible, lonely sod now Prongs. Letting your best years go to waste if you ask me.” James opened his mouth to answer but Sirius cut him off, his eyes now focused on another table further into the pub. “Speaking of lonely sods — look, it’s Dearborn. Want to go crash his date? She’s leagues ahead of him. Guess there’s some truth about Ravenclaws getting the girls after school—”

James had no intention of catching a glimpse of their old classmate, but with this additional information, he couldn’t stop himself from scanning the pub. His brow creased when he located their table.

“Evans.”

“Sorry?”

“Evans… Lily Evans, he’s with. She’s a new seventh year Gryffindor.”

“Hang on, what? A new _seventh_ year?” Sirius’ eyes were still locked on the table across the pub.

“Yeah, a bit unorthodox. She was home-schooled before this year, apparently abroad.”

“Yet she knows Dearborn? She’s fit, good for him.” James had no idea how Evans and Dearborn could have ever crossed paths, but he kept the curiosity off his face. “You should go say hi to them.”

“I should certainly _not_ go say hi to them.”

“She’s your student.”

“She’s seventeen and can do as she pleases.”

“It’s your duty as a teacher to check on this sort of thing, isn’t it?”

“It’s my day off. And no, I don’t remember learning about crashing student dates during village weekends during the teacher orientation.”

Sirius’ next retort was cut off by the well-timed reappearance of Rosmerta with their meals. They graciously thanked her for the food before tucking in. Their plates were half-cleared when Sirius decided to pick up where he left off.

“What’s she like?”

“What do you care? If you’re so curious, go introduce yourself to her. Just don’t mention your last name or she may be likely to hex you.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

“She’s drawn the same conclusion about the Black family from that _Prophet_ article as you did. She was pretty heated about the lack of outrage over Riddle’s pureblood campaign backers.”

Sirius took another bite of his food, looking thoughtful as he chewed. “So, she’s the one then?”

“Pardon?”

“Halloween, when we were talking about students caring about current events, and you told me you may be wrong about them all being clueless. _She’s_ the one who changed your mind?”

James shrugged. “In part, I suppose. She’s…passionate, I guess you could say. She once brought up that proposed bill from Umbridge and had quite a strong opinion about it.”

Sirius’ face darkened. “Oh?”

“She said something along the lines of us being worse off as a society for the likes of Umbridge.”

Sirius fumbled his fork as these words hit him. “Wow. That’s… And you didn’t propose to her on the spot?” James ignored this joke by scooping another bite into his mouth. “Just taking the mick, mate, no need to knot your wand. I know how you feel about your students. Still, must be nice to talk to one who stays up on current events, yeah?”

“She’s easy to like. Bright, helpful. She’s also a Puddlemere fan.”

Sirius looked as though he wanted to make the same proposal joke again but held his tongue. “Well, good news is she graduates in June—”

“ _Padfoot._ ”

“—but to be safe, let’s look tonight, shall we?”

James sighed, wiping his face with his napkin one final time as he finished his meal. “If we must.”

“Unless you need to stop and get a new wireless? Though now that Wilkes was binned, I expect your newest model is in top shape, yeah?”

But James was momentarily distracted from answering by the sound of a thud as the Three Broomsticks’ front door slammed shut. Charlie Fawcett took a few steps forward, eyes surveying the patrons, seeming not to have noticed the loud noise behind him. Suddenly, Fawcett discovered what he was looking for and his face fell. James followed his eyes across the bar where Evans and Dearborn were in conversation.

“Prongs?” Sirius said, bringing James’ attention back from the pair. “All right, mate?”

“’ Course. No, there’s nothing I need. Let’s get out of here.”

A moment too late, Sirius followed his eye line and watched as Fawcett approached Evans’ table. “Looks like she may be unavailable by the time June comes around.”

James’ only response was to pull Sirius by the collar to get him out of the pub.

***

Movement at the front door of the pub drew Lily’s eyes and attention away from Caradoc. James and his friend were standing up, plainly having finished their meal. It took her a moment to see beyond their table to where Charlie was standing, eyes locked on her. He appeared crestfallen, but as he approached, his stride was confident and his face took on a more neutral expression. 

“Hello,” he said as he approached the table. He gave only the smallest glance at Caradoc, bright blue eyes instead focused on Lily as though she was the only interesting thing in the pub.

“Hi Charlie,” she greeted, plastering a smile on her face.

“Sorry, I’m a few minutes early, I think. I expected it might be useful to get here early and get a table before the rush. But it seems I was behind on that idea.”

Lily forced out a small, girlish laugh, eyes locked on Charlie to avoid whatever hint of amusement she knew she’d see on Caradoc’s face. “Not at all. We’ve been here for a little while now. Charlie this is Caradoc Dearborn, a longtime family friend of mine.”

“Hello,” they both said in unison, Caradoc rising from his chair and brandishing a hand forward toward Charlie. 

“Dearborn, was it?” Charlie asked. Either Lily’s eyes were playing tricks on her or Charlie straightened his back, fully emphasizing the three inches he had on Caradoc. “The name sounds a bit familiar. You graduated Hogwarts a few years ago?”

Caradoc nodded. “Yeah, over four years ago now. Proud Eagle and all that.”

“Right, sorry. I was better keeping track of Quidditch players in the years above mine.”

“That’s right. You were Potter’s protege, taking up the mantle after we graduated if I recall correctly.”

Charlie’s cheeks flushed. Lily wondered if he didn’t prefer to be reminded of this fact. “I suppose you could say that. I am captain of the team and Head Boy. But I’d wager that’s where the similarities end between Potter and me.”

“Good man,” Caradoc said with a laugh. Lily’s stomach sank. “Well, I’ll leave you to your afternoon. It was great seeing you, Lily. I’ll tell my mum you said hi.”

“Thanks, Caradoc. See you ‘round.”

Caradoc’s face split into a goading grin behind Charlie’s back as he walked away. Lily stifled a laugh behind the back of her hand, before letting it fall to the table.

“How about I go get us a couple of butterbeers and menus? Are you hungry?”

“I could definitely eat. That would be great, Charlie.”

Lily forced herself to keep eye contact with Charlie as a broad smile came over his face. He turned on his heel and walked, with the same air of confidence, directly toward the bar. Her mind kept wanting to replay her conversations with Caradoc, not the least of which was his nonchalance about the recently proposed legislation. Was she the only person who would take any of it seriously? 

Her heart fluttered. _I know_ , she wanted to tell it, _I know I’m not truly alone_. But she knew she really was alone, regardless of what _Professor Potter_ said.

There was not much to unpack about Caradoc’s feedback, but he gave some additional advice that might prove useful for her exploration. And as the words about James bounced around in her head, she once again felt grateful for the things she had omitted in her letters to Caradoc. She had unfortunately already told him about assisting the professor with the Potions’ lessons, but at least she was vague in her correspondence about the Quidditch angle she was exploring which gave her some leeway today to not mention James again during the discussion. She had resolved herself to exploring the angle despite her feelings, but that didn’t mean she needed Caradoc’s involvement this early.

Her thoughts halted as Charlie came walking back to the table, two butterbeer tankards in-hand, and a couple of menus tucked under his arm. He looked quite handsome in his brown jumper which somehow didn’t have any creases in it. Lily realized that the only time she had ever seen a hair out of place was during Quidditch when he gained that windswept quality. This would have disappointed her _if_ he were a genuine dating prospect. Though part of her wondered if her current growing feelings played any part in her appreciation for the disheveled look.

“Here you are,” said Charlie, as he set her tankard down directly in front of her.

“Thank you. Cheers!” 

He clinked glasses before sliding the menu across the table to her. “So, how are you liking the village so far?”

“It’s beautiful, though I’m afraid I haven’t spent much time walking around.”

“We should rectify that after lunch,” he said, with an air of finality. 

She planted a smile on her face that she hoped didn’t look like a grimace, before picking her menu up. He sat quietly, patiently waiting for her to finish her perusal of the options. With his eyes on her, she wound up picking a meal at random. After he placed the order with the smiling barmaid, he came back to sit down with a bright smile on his face. He was the kind of boy who would never be able to break her heart. That she was all too aware of this only made her resolve stronger to be careful with him. Careful she would be, and if she could swing it, perhaps she’d even do some match-making between him and Anna.

If she showed this reverie on her face, he made no indication or comment about it, instead, immediately jumping into conversation with her. She was surprised at how easy it flowed with Charlie. They went from topic to topic, starting, of course with Quidditch. Their meals were delivered by a friendly old man missing a couple of teeth amid their conversation about Quidditch, and they had long since cleared their plates before they moved on from the subject to things about her background. Like most students she had met, Charlie was interested to learn about France and how she carried on with the home-schooling. She recited her carefully contrived conversation points. She had gotten rather good at them over the last month of speaking to Mary and Marlene about the topic at their whimsy.

The first hour faded well into the second, and the pub grew more crowded. Lily avoided looking around as much as she could help it, keen on giving Charlie her full attention. However, there was no possibility she wouldn’t grow cognizant of the increasing crowd, especially as she and Charlie sipped the end of their second round of drinks.

Thus, when sixth year Anthony Crawley walked up to Charlie, interrupting his current discussion about top countries he planned to travel to after graduation, Lily was not at all astounded that someone would eventually approach to inquire about their table.

She was, however, surprised when she heard Crawley speak to Charlie.

“Hey, Fawcett. I’ve just been to Stebbins and he told me to stop and see you. That you’re holding the pot for the next match. Here you are.” Lily watched as he pulled out a little bag and quickly tucked it into Charlie’s not-yet outstretched hand. “He’s already noted my bet. Thanks, mate.”

Without a glance at Lily, Anthony gave Charlie a clasp on his shoulder before walking away.

Charlie’s face was turning red, and Lily wondered if she was finally going to see the wide range of emotion that, by all appearances, only existed for Charlie on the Quidditch pitch. He avoided her eye for a long moment as he tucked the bag in his cloak pocket. “Sorry, now, where were we?”

“Bet?” she asked without any prelude. She could not help herself.

“Oh, that’s nothing. Just a little inner-house pool. It’s not a big deal at all.”

“Cool,” she lied. “What’s the pool about?”

“Err, well, Quidditch.”

It became very apparent to Lily that getting any additional information out of Charlie would be a trial. He was either not proud of this, or felt it was imperative to keep this completely under-wraps. Which meant it was unsanctioned, certainly against the rules, and maybe even illegal.

“How’s it work?” she asked, throwing caution to the wind. It was a risky move, she knew. But it put Charlie in a tough situation. He looked like he was doing some quick thinking, overlaid with some choice words directed at Anthony Crawley in his mind.

“We place a few bets ahead of the matches, just a few of us from the different houses. The players don’t participate, of course, if it’s the game they are playing in. But even so, it’s just harmless fun. Throw a couple of knuts in on the winner or point differential. Y’know just things like that.”

Now it was Lily’s turn to choose her words carefully. “That sounds like fun. You seem a bit nervous about it. Bet on Ravenclaw, did you?”

Charlie’s nervous laugh in response was all the confirmation she needed. There was something _here_. “Nervous? Nah.”

“Well, it sure is nice of you to hang on to money for Paul.”

“Yeah. Look, do you want to get out of here? There are a lot of shops here. You don’t want to spend your entire first trip just holed up here at the Three Broomsticks, do you? And besides, there’s a queue waiting for tables to open.”

Lily nodded in acquiesce, her mind still focused on the betting pool. Her gut told her, based on Charlie’s reaction, that there was more to it than a simple wager between friends. Why would Anthony have placed the bet with Paul but given Charlie the money? She tried to tuck away the questions that were running rapidly through her mind as Charlie led her out of the pub. She knew she had to be mentally present if she had any hopes of finding out more information.

It proved easier than she thought it would be to focus her thoughts on this new angle — _gambling_ , she supposed would be a good name for it — in no small part due to the fact that it meant moving on from the favoritism angle.

_For now_ , her mind added.

_For good_ , her heart hoped.

***

_Caradoc_

_Sorry we had to cut our meeting short with my lunch “date”. I heard some interesting information about students gambling on Quidditch matches. I’ll send more details when I have time to get my notes together._

_Also, I’ve heard there is likely to be a Slug Club dinner in the next week or two, and Professor Slughorn told me to expect an invite. I feel I can make some real progress here to ‘move the needle’ with these two new leads._

_Lily_


	6. Potter Exposed

_Lily_

_Congrats on your pending Slug Club invitation. Quite the accolade for any Hogwarts student. That might be an interesting place to learn some more about the gambling angle. As I recall, Slughorn serves some nice mead at those events. Let me know when you hear about the dinner and then let’s plan to meet at Hogsmeade the following Saturday. There’s a secret passageway on the fifth floor behind the portrait of Gregory the Swarmy. We’ll pick up where we left off and we must come up with the angle for your exposé by then._

_Caradoc_

***

_The library was overcrowded, students bustling throughout, arms carefully stacked with books only to send them toppling down on tables with such carelessness that indignant responses came equally from their friends, the librarian, and the clank of an upturned ink well or two. Curiously, Lily felt very cold for it being an unseasonably warm mid-November evening. She examined the half-finished Potions essay in confusion. Hadn’t she just completed this before the Hogsmeade weekend?_

_“Blimey, Evans. What’s Slughorn playing at, setting an essay this close to our match against Slytherin?”_

_Lily peered around at the sound of the voice, surprised to find that it was_ James _sitting near her. Strangely, he was dressed in a school uniform, the scarlet and gold Gryffindor tie pulled slightly down off his collar. Her eyes roved over his face as he continued to thumb through the Potions textbook in front of him until she noticed the Head Boy badge on his chest._

_“What?” he asked, finally looking up at her, likely due to the long pause without her comment. “I’ve told you we won’t be able to study in the library together if you keep getting distracted by my dashing good looks. I won’t be responsible for your failing scores, Evans, mark my word on that.”_

_For a brief moment, she was surprised to find that her mouth was not agape, but then her incredulity disappeared when she became too distracted by the lopsided, entirely-pleased-with-himself grin that he wore. It sent her heart aflutter, yet somehow, she felt herself rolling her eyes._

_“I’m here to save_ your _failing marks, Potter. I imagine in the history of Hogwarts no Head Boy has ever been worse at Potions than you. Was it pity that got you into NEWTs Potions? Or bribery?”_

_His grin never faltered. “Well, you should know by now I’m not above bribing my way into someone’s good graces.”_

_“Oh, is that what you did with me?_ That’s _what you’re saying, is it?”_

_James laughed, setting down his textbook and placing his hand over the top of hers. A tornado of flutters exploded in the pit of her stomach at the feel of his fingers threading through her own. “Dunno. I always thought it was my charm and good-looks that finally won you over, Evans. But I wasn’t above bribing if it’d get me to where we are now.” His grin softened to a smile, which she returned, blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Though I must admit I did enjoy this little bit of a sparring match. Takes you back to fifth year, doesn’t it?”_

_She nodded, and Lily got the distinct impression that she would have nodded at anything James said when he was stroking her palm with his thumb, and leaning toward her with that light in his eyes. It reminded her of mischief, and being carefree, and feeling invincible._

_“Want to get out of here?”_

_“Yes,” she answered immediately, prompting another beautiful laugh from his lips._

_Sadly, he let go of her hand as they packed up their school bags, but he more than made up for it when they started exiting the library and he slid an arm around her shoulders, tucking her into his side. It was only then that she noticed the Head Girl badge on her own robes._ Equals at last.

_“James,” she began—_

“Lily! Lily, wake up. You’ve been sleeping through your alarm.”

Lily’s eyes fluttered open, and the world swam into view in front of her. She barely held in a groan, rolling on her side and clamping her eyes shut as if that would magically transport her back to the _very_ pleasant dream she was having. Unfortunately for her, the sound of her roommates hurrying around the room as they dressed for the school day made it nearly impossible to even return to a state of daze, the quiet moment between asleep and awake where it was still possible to feel surrounded by the relaxed calm of a beautiful dream.

A beautiful dream. Is that what it was? If so, she was moving past the crush stage at an alarming rate.

“Lily. We’re going to be late for breakfast.”

“Sorry, Mare. Go on without me. I’d hate to make you all late.”

After her assurance, Mary and Marlene hastened from the room. Lily took a moment to stretch her limbs before rolling out of bed and forcing herself to focus on _real_ life, despite every part of her that wanted to remain blissfully unaware, back in the dream world she’d just left.

By the time she made it down to the Entrance Hall, her watch told her she had seven minutes to eat before Defense. But before she was halfway through the hall, her heart skipped in what was fast becoming her body’s natural reaction to seeing James. He was walking out of the Great Hall in conversation with Professor Slughorn. James watched the ground as he walked, occasionally nodding to whatever Slughorn was saying. Lily kept up her stride toward the hall but faltered when Slughorn greeted her. It was only at this point that James looked at her.

“Hello,” she greeted in reply, once they came within speaking distance.

“Running late, Miss Evans? Quite unusual, though I’ve always felt the week following a Hogsmeade visit can make even the most punctual student a step behind.” Lily kept her eyes focused on Slughorn as he spoke. “Well, I won’t keep you from your breakfast. I simply wanted to give you this. Our first party of the year this Friday.”

“Oh, wow. I’m flattered, Professor Slughorn.” She grabbed the scroll from Slughorn’s outstretched hand, her eyes flickering to James, who was now standing casually with his hands tucked into the front pockets of his slacks. She failed to see the slightly bemused expression on his face. “Thank you.”

“Not at all, m’dear. I make a point to invite some of my contacts that would be useful for the sixth and seventh years in their career aspirations. But don’t worry, we still manage to have a great deal of fun. It’s not _all_ business talk.” He chuckled as though the idea of _not_ having a good time was preposterous.

Lily smiled awkwardly, thanking him again before walking past them and into the Great Hall. In her haste, she nearly ran into Charlie as he was exiting.

“Oops, sorry, Charlie. I’m running late,” she said, peering around him toward the house tables. Breakfast seemed unlikely at this point.

“Yeah, Mary told me. That’s why I grabbed you some toast. It’s not much but…”

“Oh. Thank you,” she said, taking the napkin full of toast out of his hands. “I might have made it if I weren’t stopped by Professor Slughorn.”

He laughed, as they began walking side-by-side back through the Entrance Hall. “That tracks. I saw him a few minutes ago. He stopped by the table and gave me a note about the next Slug Club party.”

Lily nodded, having just taken a bite of toast. When she swallowed, she clarified, “He did the same to me.”

“You must be thrilled for your first Slug Club party. Though I can’t say I’m surprised, how good you are at Potions in particular.”

Lily shrugged, forcing a smile on her face. She was anxious, more than relieved, to be invited to the party, but knew she had to show otherwise. “It’ll be interesting if nothing else, based on what I’ve heard.”

“Definitely. We could go together if you’d want. Then, y’know… you’d always have a friendly face.”

“Sure,” she said, the pit of her stomach clenched as she nodded and smiled wider. “That sounds fun.”

*******

On Friday evening at half eight, Lily made her way down to the common room to meet Charlie. He was impressively dressed, silhouetted by the light of the large hearth, and saw her just as she descended the last stair.

After throwing a quick look at his watch, he looked back up at her with a grin on his face. “You’re right on time.”

“Is that a problem? Because I could pop back up to my room for a quarter of an hour and take a quick nap if it suits you better to be fashionably late.”

His grin grew. “Not at all. Just not used to _not_ waiting, I guess you could say.”

“Ah, yes, well it’s one of my top character traits, I’ll have you know. Punctual to a fault, some’d say. Shall we?”

Charlie nodded, gesturing for her to go ahead through the portrait hole. Once through, Charlie immediately complimented her on her gold dress robes, which twinkled in the dimming lights of the castle lamps as they walked past. She returned the comment easily, and it certainly wasn’t untrue. He was a sight in dark navy robes. His hair was combed down like it usually was, not a strand out of place. They made casual, easy chit-chat on their way to Professor Slughorn’s study. Lily wasn’t quite sure what to expect but was blown away by the office as they crossed the threshold.

The chamber was larger than she expected for a professor’s office and was decorated in long, intricate wall hangings of all four house colors. Despite the large number of floating candles that were scattered among the room, it had a nice calm ambiance. Positioned pleasantly in the back center of the room was a lengthy refreshments table that Lily knew would be disappointedly full of some kind of punch, and likely not the spiked kind. Further away from that table, she caught a glimpse of a piano that was playing of its own accord. There had to be nearly forty guests, a mixture between Hogwarts students and the professionals Slughorn had mentioned earlier in the week. From where she stood, it was a challenge for Lily to tell who was who from the dress robes they were wearing.

She followed Charlie further into the room, almost forgotten as he greeted and shook hands with nearly everyone he passed.

“Have you been in the Slug Club long?” she asked when Charlie’s attention came back to her.

“No earlier than most of the other seventh years. Started coming to these events in fifth year.”

“It seems like you know most of the people here.”

Charlie’s face reddened a bit at this observation. “We’ve… met before. The wizarding community can be very small.”

Lily pressed her lips, nodding. “It’s a family thing, then?” she guessed.

He laughed, now stopping next to a circular high-top table on which stood someone’s forgotten drink. “My dad works in the Ministry. He’s head of the Department of Magical Transportation. He’s gotten to know loads of people over the years.”

“Is that what you plan to do, after graduation then? Work under your father? I’m not sure if that would even be allowed.”

“No, I don’t plan to. I have already lined up a position in the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”

Lily loved Quidditch more than most, but she couldn’t reconcile the thought of the Hogwarts Head Boy graduating and dedicating his life to games when his talent could be an invaluable resource to many other causes. She knew she was being unfair and overly judgmental, but she could not force away the thoughts.

“Oh, erm, congratulations. That sounds like it will be…quite the experience.”

“It’s just a jumping-off point for my career,” Charlie said, turning away from her to scan the room again. “Ah, Ludo _is_ here! Slughorn had hinted he would be but that wasn’t confirmed. I’d love to catch him for a chat…” His eyes darted between Lily and a further corner of the room.

“Go,” Lily said simply, planting a small, encouraging smile on her face. “I’ll be fine. You should go talk to him.”

“Are you certain?”

“I am _absolutely_ certain,” she confirmed, tugging him forward before gently pushing him in the direction he had seen Ludo. “We’ll catch up later.”

Charlie nodded vehemently but said nothing more than a simple yes before walking away.

Lily didn’t bother to watch him go, uninterested in whoever this Ludo character was. Instead, she headed toward the refreshment table. It was well-positioned to view the entirety of the party. Maybe with that vantage point, she could start differentiating between the students and guests to see if there were any interesting Ministry officials in attendance.

The refreshment table was loaded with numerous appetizers and drinks, including mead, punch, and an unidentified third drink that she planned to avoid. As tempting as it would be, she ignored the mead and instead ladled herself a small helping of punch before snagging a frosted biscuit off the far end of the table.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” said a voice behind her, just as her fingers folded over the biscuit, “for your coveted Slug Club party invite.”

Lily smiled as she straightened, orienting herself now to face James. He was dashing as ever with dark green dress robes that complimented his tanned skin beautifully, in a way that made her heart ache. “And I suppose I must offer _you_ my condolences for being roped into one of these parties.”

James laughed. “Roped in? Miss Evans, I secured myself an invite from having an intimate relationship with the host.”

She was grateful she hadn’t chosen that moment to take a drink, otherwise, her snort would have surely resulted in her choking on her drink. “In that case, my condolences are _definitely_ warranted.” He only laughed louder at this, the genuine sort of laughter that reached his eyes and ignited his face. “Though that would explain how someone _truly_ terrible at Potions could be included in this group.”

“As I’ve mentioned before, as a student, there are two ways to secure yourself an invite to the exclusive Slug Club. One is solely on talent,” he said, tipping his drink toward her, “and the other, solely on surname. I am self-aware enough to realize I have always been the latter of those two, at least where Potions is concerned. But recent discovery has taught me you can be invited as a _professor_ as long as you agree to help chaperon. So y’know…working my way up, you could say.”

She considered this. It was a lot to unpack, but she didn’t have the time at this precise moment to wrap her head around it. “Ah — just curious, did you have this self-awareness as a student?”

He appeared as though he was considering her teasing question. “I suppose, yeah. No one was coming to me for tutoring lessons in Potions, that’s for certain. Though the first time I even attended a Slug Club event was seventh year, and, at that point, there was tradition surrounding the Heads students always being members of the club.”

“That must’ve been a heavy burden to bear,” she teased, taking another sip of her drink to hide her smile. “Head Boy, Quidditch Captain, _and_ Slug Club member attending fancy parties, rubbing elbows with some of the wizarding elites. I know I’m new here, but that seems to cover what these events are all about, yeah?”

James sipped his drink thoughtfully, his eyebrows stitched together as though considering her. Lily didn’t allow herself to hope that he wanted to learn about her as much as she wanted to learn about him. Why would he?

“Well… I suppose you’ve got that right, at least in my time. Invites to the Slug Club were coveted. It was a well-known fact that if you were in with Professor Slughorn you were in a fairly good place to find a job right out of school. Between us… Horace likes to help people, but he also likes to _boast_ about all the people he’s helped.”

Lily gave a short nod, pretending this meant very little to her to hear, but it was as if he had opened a tap in her mind, which now overflowed with questions. How many Ministry officials had Slughorn to thank for their position? And how qualified _were_ those people? What was his true influence? Was it dangerous? Even though she already had her career sorted, she hated the idea that affluence would weigh higher than competence or talent for those soon leaving school.

“Do you know a lot of people here?” she asked, turning her attention from James toward the room at large.

“I’ve seen a few ministry department heads here, some a bit older than myself, and I can’t be bothered to remember their names. I think I saw a couple of Quidditch players around — sadly, no one from Puddlemere,” he clarified, as Lily’s face turned back around to look at him with excitement. “Professor Slughorn went a bit light on the guestlist for this event. He usually does something bigger around Christmas. And you’ll see big names from the Wizengamot, Auror office, and even a couple of people from the _Prophet_ show up for that one.”

Lily was grateful she was not looking directly at James, instead, her eyes fell across the room to where Charlie was talking to a young, stocky fellow who kept clapping him on the shoulder encouragingly.

“I wouldn’t worry though. I’m sure Professor Slughorn invited someone here who will provide some valuable insight into your career—”

“ _Lily?!_ ”

It took every ounce of acting ability in her body for Lily to calmly turn around and address the person who’d interrupted James. “Severus… hi.”

Severus was staring at her like he couldn’t believe his eyes, his gaunt features contorted with astonishment. He was clad head to toe in black, even his hair, which fell down his face like stringy curtains. “Lily, what are you doing here?”

“It’s a long story,” she answered quickly, keeping her eyes locked on Severus as though it would keep his full attention on her and not James.

“Are you here for—”

“Can we speak _privately_?” she almost begged, aware that James was still within listening distance. Her eyes darted over to him of their own accord.

Severus turned to look at James, meeting James’ look of dislike with one of his own. “Potter. They haven’t sacked you yet?”

“Astute as ever, Snape.”

“The standards in this school have severely dropped since we attended, I see.”

“I didn’t think you were capable of seeing anything past the potions textbooks you buried your nose in. Particularly not long enough to come to a _social_ event. Though I suppose these occasions don’t come around often for you.”

Without thinking, Lily stepped forward and grasped Snape’s elbow. “Severus. _Please_.”

Severus unwillingly pulled his eyes away from James, the scowl still plain on his face until he glanced down at Lily. He nodded and allowed her to pull him further away from the refreshment table to a vacant part of the room. She forced herself not to look back at James.

“Lily, I haven’t heard from you in _ages_ —”

“I’m sorry, Sev. I’ve been working,” she replied in a low voice, hoping her tone would keep him speaking in the soft voice he usually spoke with.

“ _Here?_ Are you here for the _Prophet_?”

“It’s a long story,” she said, “that I can’t get fully into here. There are too many people—”

“Miss Evans, there you are!” said Professor Slughorn as he ambled toward them, a crystal glass with swirling, brown liquor clutched in his hand. For a split moment, Lily allowed herself to look past Slughorn’s shoulder at James, who was still staring at Severus with thinly-veiled dislike. Her eyes snapped back to Slughorn as he stopped at Severus’ side. “Ah, I see you have already found Severus. Severus, this is Lily Evans. She’s an incredible potioneer, not so far behind yourself and your talents as a seventh year. Lily, this is Severus Snape, the youngest Master Potioneer in the Ministry. His specialty is potion creation, and he’s done some revolutionary research into ingredient properties. He will be an excellent resource for your career aspirations.”

“Thanks, Professor,” said Lily, her voice strained. Severus was staring at her with interest but thankfully had the mind to only mutter some pleasantries to Slughorn as he walked away.

“ _Professor_?” Severus bit out. “Are you here—”

“This is not a good time to talk about it, Sev.”

“It’s a simple que—”

“Lily, I’m sorry to have been away for so long,” said Charlie, now walking briskly to her side. “Oh, I hadn’t realized I was interrupting.”

“Your _date_ , I presume?” Severus said in a low voice, only meant for Lily to hear. She gave an infinitesimal shrug, her eyes imploring Severus to let it go.

“No problem at all, Charlie,” Lily answered as Charlie drew closer, though her eyes were still locked with Severus as she spoke. “Severus, this is Charlie Fawcett. He’s the Head Boy.”

“Pleasure,” Severus said flatly.

Charlie appeared equally as excited to greet Severus. Surely, the house rivalries between Severus, a Slytherin, and James _and_ Charlie, Gryffindors, were at play here. At least, Lily hoped that was all the animosity was about.

“How about we make another round?” he suggested, successfully drawing Lily’s attention away from Severus.

“Oh, um, sure. But first, have you gotten a drink yet?”

“I haven’t. Would you like another glass of punch?”

“That would be great, thank you. I’ll meet you over there in one moment,” she said, passing her cup over to him. Once he had walked away and was in conversation with James, Lily spun around to face Severus again. “I’m sorry. I wish I could explain more. I will owl you, Sev. And we can probably meet—”

“Lily. What are you _doing_? What are you thinking? Being _here_. You’re not—”

“I know what I’m _not_ , Sev, just fine without you reminding me. I’m sorry, I have to go.” She began to walk away, a small smile on her face. “It was good to see you.”

Despite himself, his face softened at this. “It was good to see you, too, Lily.”

When she started walking toward Charlie, she noticed James had gone. She knew it was for the best, but still wished he had at least said goodbye. She sighed, mentally preparing herself for another round of meeting people with Charlie. She followed him dutifully for the rest of the night, taking mental notes of all the students and guests alike, while praying she would not have any other surprise encounters. Finally, after two hours, she determined she’d had enough, bid Charlie goodnight, and headed back to her dorm to prepare for her meeting the next evening with Caradoc.

***

The bell’s clink was easily hidden by the raucous noise that was commonplace at the Three Broomsticks on a Saturday evening. Pulling her hood down off her head, Lily scanned the room hurriedly and found Caradoc sitting a few meters away at a small round table. She weaved through the few tables between them and slid onto the seat next to him.

“Hello,” she greeted, pulling her notebook out of her cloak pocket and accepting a drink from him. “Thank you.” It was alcoholic. “Mmm. Is it that obvious I need something harder than butterbeer?”

Caradoc laughed. “Well, you are reliving being seventeen for the second time. And even I’ve grown bored of the three dormitory anecdotes you’ve told me. I can only imagine what you’re going through.”

She laughed but felt slightly guilty for it. “They’re all right. Kind girls, despite being young. Maybe in a few years, we could be good friends. They are good for rumors, though, which you should appreciate.”

“I do, indeed. But as we aren’t writing a ‘Who’s Dating Whom’ or a ‘Top Fashion Trends at Hogwarts’ article, the friendships are providing little true substance.”

“Maria Moriarty is dating Davey Gudgeon and the whole of Hufflepuff house is buzzing about it. And the Hogwarts top fashion is called ‘School Uniform’ because that is all we are permitted to wear,” Lily told him, before taking a long drag of her drink.

He snorted into his. “Sounds about right. Still. I probably don’t need to remind you that Bones is growing impatient waiting for an angle. I’ve been keeping her informed, of course. She knew there would be some time needed for acclimation, but I think she – and I really – rather hoped you’d have something concrete by now.”

Lily put her drink down, understanding it was time for business and opening her notebook. She allowed herself a couple of chips off Caradoc’s plate as she rifled through the book. “Well like I said before, I think I might be able to put together something akin to A Year in the Life of a Student, you know? But I’m trying to delve deeper, and maybe collect a list of things most people don’t know about Hogwarts. Some students and past students, I’m sure, probably have no idea about the house-elf population or the–”

“Dearborn!”

Both Caradoc and Lily broke their intense concentration to behold the man who’d interrupted them. He had long black hair and gray eyes that were fogged by drink. He looked vaguely familiar to Lily, though she couldn’t think from where she knew him.

“Black,” Caradoc greeted in turn. The man stopped in front of their table, and two others followed his lead. Caradoc seemed to know them as well, and he nodded to both: “Lupin, Pettigrew.”

“This bloke,” Black continued, as he dragged a stool away from a nearby table to prop himself next to theirs. He gestured toward Caradoc as if anyone needed clarification. “Haven’t seen this guy since seventh year. And now I’ve seen him twice this month, _here_!”

His friends stared impassively between the two, as though they were used to this type of conversation.

“Are you sure you can even see me, Black?”

Black let out a bark-like laugh that Lily was certain was false, before twisting in his seat to look at her.

“You’re a Hogwarts student,” he informed her. “Snuck out on a Saturday night, have you? Though if you get caught – if I were you – I would play the new card student. You are that new Gryffindor, right?”

Lily sent a small look over to Caradoc, but it was then she realized where she recognized him from and her heart sank to the floor.

“Well, I know one professor who would be very proud.” _Oh_. “And he should be here any moment.” _Oh no_. “He should already be here getting sloshed with us if I’m to be honest.”

“Sirius,” one of his friends said in a warning tone. “James wouldn’t appreciate you talking to his students. Let’s go get seats.”

“And you some water,” the other added, placing a chubby hand on his friend’s arm.

“And brandy,” he – Sirius – added. “Anyway, whatever your name is, Gryffindor girl, Dearborn here is a good lad. But so is James. I’ll be sure to send him over here once he arrives.” The color in Lily’s face drained instantly, and Sirius laughed again. “I’m only joking.”

“All right. You two enjoy your evening,” the first friend said, pushing Sirius away from the table.

“More of Potter’s friends,” Caradoc told her once they were out of earshot.

“I’d gathered as much.” Lily returned to her notes. Sirius _Black_ , was it? It had to be the same Black family who supported Riddle. She couldn’t reconcile James being friends with someone with so much hatred; it simply didn’t track from all the things she knew about him. It still unsettled her, though. “Back to the point. I know we last spoke about gambling and I’m still working on that angle. Charlie has not been very forthcoming about the ‘pool’ as he calls it. I tried to bring it up during the Slug Club party but he blew me off. I think there may be another source I could talk to. Perhaps express my interest and learn what it’s all about. In addition to that, there’s a possible angle surrounding the Slug Club. Professor Slughorn seems to be up to some shady practices from what I can tell. I’d wager the favoritism he shows toward his Slug Club members reflect in their marks.”

“Professor Slughorn has been teaching for years. His Slug Club is older than dirt. Many of our officials were in it. Bones, for one. She’s still rather fond of old Slughorn.”

“Yes, sure,” Lily continued, unfazed. “But James mentioned, when he was in school—"

“James? He’s asked you to call him James?”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t even have known he’s called James if the house-elves didn’t call him that.” Caradoc’s eyebrow arched. “I told you I’d visited the kitchens!”

“But you failed to mention you had company there. Did he _take_ you there? Did he offer to show you? Have dinner _alone_ with you?”

Internally, she said a silent prayer that the flush on her face would be attributed to the drink rather than the current subject. “ _What?_ ”

“That is your article,” Caradoc said, his face growing bright as though he had just seen a brilliant idea form before his eyes. “James Potter. _Potter Exposed_.”

“What? What kind of story is that?” Her stomach dropped so fast she felt as though she was sinking into the ground.

“Well, not just him. You and him. Or him and whoever. The teacher-student dynamic. His appointment was met with skepticism. He’s hardly older than any of his pupils. So, who is to say how he teaches? Has he grown cozy with other students?”

“Other? What do you mean? He’s not cozy with other students, nor with me.”

“Lily, you’ve mentioned in him many of your letters. He was with you in the kitchens when you visited the house-elves. You were in a _storage_ _room_ with him!”

“Helping with a lesson!” she said, scandalized. Either the brandy or his words were making her head swirl. Likely both. Though she felt like she needed another drink to handle this conversation. Immense relief that she hadn’t told Caradoc about the wireless washed over her again.

“We’re going to need a word key in the article,” Caradoc said seriously, brandishing a chip in her direction matter-of-factly. “To translate all your innuendos into words our readership understands. ‘Helping him with a lesson’ is a bit cliché at any rate.”

Lily’s face grew even redder. “That is not what I meant!” If he weren’t her editor, she might have slapped him. “Look, Caradoc. James—Professor Potter has not done anything to call his integrity into question. The only thing I can say I’ve noticed is that he puts on an authoritative tone when he teaches. But that’s to be expected when, as you’ve said, he’s not too much older than the students under his charge.” She ignored the clenching in her stomach just as she ignored the memory of James strategizing Quidditch with Charlie.

Caradoc stood his ground. “You have been running ‘round looking for an idea, Lily. Maybe Potter’s integrity isn’t questioned by you because he keeps a safe distance. But most of the conversations you’ve relayed to me reach beyond a teacher-student relationship. Perhaps you’d feel better calling it friendship… But maybe he is calling it something more with another student. _That_ you must find out.”

Lily’s stomach sank. James wouldn’t do that. He valued teaching too much to risk it – and for what, anyway? The flighty seventh-year girls who’d once fawned over him when he was in school? They were vapid. _Not all of them_ , her mind protested. But there was certainly a maturity gap. Her limited time with him assured her that maturity was important to him. He had seemed extremely uncomfortable when she mentioned the crushes Marlene and Mary had on him. He’d also seemed awkward after he’d physically caught her in the Potions’ storage room. At the time, she thought it was the case because he kept strong boundaries with his students.

But what if it was more to do with _her_ than her being a _student_ …

She didn’t want to believe it. Yet she knew she had limited objectivity when it came to him.

Still, she planted herself firmly: “Fine, if I must. But I’m certain you will be disappointed when I find nothing… unsavory about his character.”

Caradoc laughed derisively into his drink. “You think you know him because he’s shown you where the kitchens are? Lily, I went to school with him for seven years. He’s… capable of…” He paused, clearly choosing his words. Lily downed her drink. “Of toeing the line. He had no problem getting into trouble in school.

“I have no doubt he takes his job seriously,” he continued before Lily could speak. “But he faces temptation. Start your search with Quidditch. It would be very in character for him to run around like a seventh year, strategizing plays like he’s back on the team. If anyone were to play favorites and overlook things, no one who grew up with him would bat an eye to find out it was him.”

“You dislike him,” she said, flatly. She desperately tried to flag down the bartender for another drink.

“I don’t dislike him,” Caradoc said, sounding earnest. “I wasn’t best mates with him, but we got on fine. Partnered a whole year with him in Transfiguration and he helped me pull my marks up.” He raised a glass toward the barkeep for another before turning his attention back to Lily. “But when he wasn’t on the Quidditch Pitch, or in the library, he was blowing up cauldrons, or pranking Slytherins. He was sneaking out to Hogsmeade or nicking things from the caretaker or winding up in detention.”

“I heard he was Head Boy in his seventh year,” Lily said, with a slight forced-casual shrug. She had landed her share of detentions in school, but she had turned over a new leaf as she grew older.

“He was, to the shock of some. He grew out of some of his bad habits by the time sixth year came around.” As the barkeep handed over their new drinks, Caradoc looked over to the other side of the pub. James was now joining his friends. “But the mischief was always there. That doesn’t truly ever go away. And if he wants to do something that he thinks he can get away with, he will.”

Lily sipped her new drink feeling queasy. Finally, she nodded.

A heavy silence hung between Caradoc and Lily for a few minutes as they drank. Lily knew she should take it easy. She knew she should be preparing to sneak back into school tonight, should _already_ be trying to leave the pub now that James was there, but it felt refreshing to be out of the castle. Having real adult conversations without having to watch every word she said. She knew many things, but at this moment she cared very little about them, wanting to put off exploring the new topic for her article as long as possible. Caradoc watched her inquisitively as she studied her new drink.

“So… anything else new at the _Prophet_?” Lily asked.

***

“You two enjoy your evening,” Remus said, shoving Sirius away from the table, softer than he would’ve liked. When they were out of earshot, he admonished: “Must you constantly make yourself look like an arse – and us, by association?”

Sirius laughed. “Prongs has a thing for her, you know.”

Remus nearly tripped on the nearest barstool he passed. “He _what_?”

Sirius, to his credit, waited until they had found a booth tucked away in the corner of the pub before he repeated himself. “He has a thing for her. Won’t admit it – maybe not even to himself, but he does.”

“Prongs wouldn’t _do_ that,” Peter said automatically, throwing a side-long glance at Remus.

“He values his position too much to go messing around with a student.”

“I didn’t say he was messing around with her,” Sirius corrected quickly. “He won’t even admit to himself that he is fond of her. In more than a teacher-student way. They’re sort of… mates. Or at least, James could see them being friends once she graduates.”

“There’s quite a difference between wanting to be friends and having a thing, Padfoot. Merlin, you nearly gave me a cardiac episode,” said Remus, irritably.

“There’s also not a far leap from _friend_ to _girlfriend._ Once the timing is right.” Even in his current state, the years of their friendship made Sirius very equipped to see the skepticism on his friends’ faces. “He’s fond of her… He’s spoken fondly of her to me, Moony. Nothing, y’know, _romantic_ but he mentioned she was in a state about the trash legislation Umbridge has cooked up. James was in shock to think she would care about…”

“About people like me,” Remus supplied dryly, but his brow was creased as he mulled over the words. “She’s _seventeen_ , Padfoot. I doubt James _cares_ what one person thinks—”

“Ask him when he gets here. He’s fond of her, he’ll tell you.”

“Get him drunk enough and he will,” Peter said off-handedly.

Sirius’ face brightened at these words. “That is an excellent idea, Worm. Here,” he said, rummaging in his pocket before tossing a few gold coins to his friend. “Go get some double whiskeys for him, and drinks for the rest of us.”

Remus continued to look unconvinced, but Peter had already risen from his seat and headed toward the bar. Remus’ eyes traveled between Sirius and the table across the pub with the Gryffindor student. He compressed his lips thoughtfully, but before he could press his friend any further, a new body crashed into the empty seat at their table.

“Evening.”

“Prongs!” Sirius greeted, just as Peter rejoined them with a handful of drinks. “Here, have a whiskey.”

James laughed. “Right to it then.” He took the glass, raising it with a nod. “Cheers!”

“Cheers,” Sirius repeated, clinking his glass to James’. “Hear what happened in the Puddlemere match?”

James paused, having seen a flash of red across the bar as Sirius mentioned Puddlemere. He shook his head. “I…uh… what?”

Their eyes had followed him to the table at which Lily sat.

“See something you like?” Sirius pressed. The others appeared to be holding their breaths.

“What? How many times – no, Padfoot. She’s out of bounds. And _drinking_.”

“Oh, let her have her fun,” Sirius said, gesturing to James’ drink. “You’re not a professor right now, Prongs.”

James laughed derisively but took another sip of his drink. “I’m _always_ a professor, Padfoot. Having a night off when a student is breaking about twenty school rules is not a thing.”

Remus cleared his throat, his eyes still traveling between the two tables subtly. “So Puddlemere?”

But this proved to be a futile attempt at redirecting the conversation because, across the room, two familiar faces joined Lily and Caradoc at their table. James’ eyes narrowed in confusion. “Is that…Diggory and Meadowes?”

“The plot thickens,” said Sirius cheerfully, finishing off his drink.

James watched despite himself. Diggory leaned down close to Lily and she swatted at his shoulder. Even from the distance, he could see she was holding back a laugh.

“She knows them both,” Peter said, voicing what they were all thinking. “No introductions.”

“How is that possible? He was Head Boy when we were in fifth year – that makes him _six_ years older than her?”

“And Dorcas is _our_ age,” Peter added.

Even Sirius’ eyes were narrowing now, though in part from his dislike of Diggory from their time at Hogwarts together. James peered at his drink thoughtfully. They were chatting animatedly as a group at this point, even Meadowes joining in with Dearborn. Diggory sat next to Lily but didn’t lean in close again.

Then, it seemed, just as soon as they arrived and sat down, Diggory and Meadowes rose from their seats. Diggory headed toward the bar with Lily in tow while Meadowes strode toward the door. As she neared them, Sirius called: “Oy, Meadowes!”

She stopped at the sound of her name, diverting her path from the door to stop next to their table. “Black.” She noted them all. “Ah, I should have known. Hi everyone.”

Before anyone could share any further pleasantries, Sirius continued: “That girl…redhead you were just sitting with—”

Dorcas rolled her eyes. “Interested? Really, Black? Did all of our snogging in seventh year mean nothing to you?”

Sirius opened his mouth to retort but James cut him off. “Did Dearborn introduce you to her?”

Dorcas’ eyes narrowed in confusion. “Lily? No. I know her from work.”

James’ mouth was open in preparation for a response but his mind was unable to comprehend these words.

“Work?” Remus asked, keeping his voice casual. He had always been proficient at masking his emotions, especially compared to James, who had hastily poured some whiskey in his mouth to hide his reaction. “Where are you working these days?”

“The _Daily Prophet_. Caradoc and I are associate editors. Lily was a copy editor until recently, now she works for Caradoc as a reporter.”

Stunned silence met her, and she looked between them in confusion for a long, awkward minute.

“Ah. Um. And Diggory, we saw him, too. Is he also at the _Prophet_?” James was relieved Remus seemed to be the only one keeping his faculties together enough to speak. It was as if they were speaking a language James did not speak, but sadly understood.

“He does some freelance writing for the sports columns, I believe. He got into it a while ago when he was going out with Lily.”

“ _She_ dated _him_?” James was surprised to find it was Sirius’ voice, not his own, that spoke this thought aloud.

Dorcas sighed. “Ages ago. Maybe three or four years? Whenever she first moved back here after graduating from Beauxbatons. I _think_ she graduated the same year as us but I may be mixing that up.”

“She’s _French_?”

Dorcas eyed him uncertainly. “Look, Black, I’m not here to tell you her whole story. If you’d like to know, go take a shot at it yourself.” But before Sirius could reply, she threw her hair over her shoulder. “Well, I would say it was nice catching up… but you lot are acting stranger than usual even. I’ve got to go.”

“Bye Dorcas,” Remus and Peter said together, while Sirius grunted something unintelligibly before turning to look at James.

He sat in stunned silence, watching Lily and Diggory head back to the table. Diggory passed a plate of food over to Caradoc as they joined him again.

“Prongs?”

“I… uh… I,” James paused, downing his drink before he exhaled: “What the _fuck_?”

His friends simply stared, waiting for the inevitable blow-up from him. Peter had the mind to mumble something about getting more drinks as he scurried away from the table. James said nothing. His head was swimming, and he almost felt woozy from the sensation. They sat there in silence for a long time, as James’ mind whirled.

All the pieces were starting to fit together now. All of the moments of confusion, where he felt scrutinized, where she far exceeded her classmates at an assignment, how she spoke about current events, the house-elves, Quidditch, the conversation with Snape, how she interacted with other students… How mature and perceptive she was compared to the others in seventh year. It all made sense, and the first emotion he felt upon realizing this was _relief_. Relief that she wasn’t seventeen. Relief which infuriated him.

He knew their budding friendship was not exactly appropriate – though he still felt he handled himself with integrity and it never even bordered _improper_. But still a small part of him was relieved that she was not seventeen, that she was his age. It made it more palatable that they got on so well when he knew they could have potentially been in the same year at Hogwarts. Unless… unless there was a _reason_ they got along so well. A reason she liked Puddlemere, a reason she confided in him…

The wave of relief was quickly washed away, replaced by a crash of unbridled anger. Anger at her, at Dearborn, at the _Daily Prophet_. What were they playing at with all this? There was no circumstance in which Professor Dumbledore would have allowed this, which meant they were underhanded and dishonest in her enrollment. And to what end? What was she even undercover _for_?

“What are you going to do, Prongs?” came a tentative question through his rushing thoughts.

“Going to ask her out?”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Wormtail?” Sirius asked, his voice rising enough to catch the attention of the couple at a nearby table.

“What?” Peter said defensively. “It’s not as though she’s _really_ a student. She’s our age after all.”

“By appearances, she _is_ a student,” Remus said evenly. “No one would know or care to discern the difference.”

“But he likes her.”

James laughed. It sounded cruel, startling his friends. “ _Like_ her, Wormtail? Fuck, I don’t even _know_ her. As far as I know, everything that has ever come out of her mouth has been a fucking fabrication.”

“Now Prongs –”

“Moony,” Sirius said, his voice sharp with warning.

Remus leveled a stare at him before turning back to James. “I sincerely doubt that, was all I was going to say. It’s not as though she could be… in character, or what have you, at all times.”

“The hell she can’t. Moony, _she’s an undercover reporter at Hogwarts_.” He bit out every word as if poisonous.

Peter shot a look across the bar. “But what for? What’s she intending to write about?”

“No idea,” James said honestly, downing the new drink Peter had placed in front of him without so much as a flinch. “But I sure as hell am going to find out.”


	7. Once a Marauder

Lily, despite having an extremely enjoyable evening once the fog of drink took her mind away from her assignment, resolved to cut herself off after her fourth drink. Amos had joined her and Caradoc for about an hour before he departed with a small kiss on her cheek and a handshake for Caradoc. As the warmth of her buzz wore off, she became hyper-aware of a group of eyes that she knew had been watching her on and off for some time. With the fuzz of alcohol in her brain, and knowing the consequences could be catastrophic, she had allowed herself to forget James was there. If he was going to come over and reprimand her and set her to weeks or months of detention, then she was going to make the most of her visit to the village.

But he never did come to her table. He was apparently very involved in a conversation with his friends, though whenever she chanced a glance at him, he was not the one speaking. Could he really be cozy with other students? Her mind started picturing him with someone like Mary or Marlene, but couldn’t stand the thought of all the giggling that would be born from such a thing. She knew at least either of them would not have kept such a remarkable feat quiet. She felt confident that _any_ seventh year close to him would do a poor job keeping it secret. There was always something to gossip about, but never about _him_. She ignored the part of her that was sick about the idea for another reason.

Finally, unbelievably, he left.

She kept Caradoc talking for another half hour before deciding it was time to risk getting back to the castle unseen. The time -- and water -- helped her to gain most of her faculties back. She certainly still felt good in the tipsy sort of way, but not enough to be unaware of her surroundings and, most importantly, loose with her tongue. She bid Caradoc farewell, sliding her cloak on and tucking her notebook back into her pocket, before heading toward the door.

It had cooled considerably during her time out of school. She surmised that the secret passageway back would be equally cool from the draft, but she was not overly concerned about it. She crossed the threshold of the pub, noting the hanging lanterns that lined the main street of Hogsmeade with awe. It was a beautiful sight.

“Evening,” said a voice behind her suddenly.

Instinctively, she spun on her heel, her hand flying to her pocket for her wand. James walked toward her, his own wand lighting up the dark entryway of the pub and his unreadable face. _Oh fuck_.

“Er… hi,” she said tentatively. She should have limited herself to three drinks.

“I have to admit, I was surprised to see you tonight. For quite a few reasons, Miss Evans.” He was standing close to her, towering taller than she expected. She kept her mouth shut. There was nothing she could say at this point that wouldn’t deepen her grave further. “Which secret passageway did you use to get here?”

She blinked, temporarily unable to hide her horror at being asked this question. She knew there was no escaping whatever fate – and James – had in store for her. “Fifth-floor passage behind Gregory the Swarmy.”

He contemplated this for a second before saying, “That will do. Let’s go then.”

Lily followed dutifully, a step behind him, as he marched on through the village. She didn’t ask if he knew where to go – his purposeful gait told her all she needed to know. It was quiet for the few minutes it took them to get to the outskirts of the village where the entry to the passageway resided. Though she didn’t want to be the first to break the silence, it was heavy on her compared to how things usually were when she was near him. Once the entrance, a large grass-covered trap door at the foot of an enormous oak tree, came into view, James cleared his throat.

“It must be difficult for you, living a double life, Evans.”

At these words, her eyes flew up from watching her feet and she tripped. He easily reached a hand out to catch her as she stumbled. Her stomach lurched for more than one reason. “Erm, what?”

“Dating two people - Dearborn and Fawcett. Not to pry, but I can’t imagine any other reason you would risk expulsion to meet Dearborn. You must be having a difficult time choosing between them.”

They reached the trap door and it flew open with a flick of his wand. He said nothing further on the subject but motioned her to go down the tunnel ahead of him. She obliged quickly, dropping down into the poorly lit cavern. She moved far enough away from the entrance to give him the clearance he needed to join her, which he did a few moments later.

“I’ll lead,” he offered, pushing past her. She fell into step behind him once more, not inclined to argue. She stared at her feet as if avoiding looking at him would make the scenario any better.

She expected the walk through the tunnel back to the castle to take about twenty minutes, but at James’ brisk pace she wasn’t confident it would take that long.

“Am I going to be expelled?” she asked, her nerves prompting her before she could help herself.

He didn’t answer her straight away. He also didn’t break stride at her words, leaving her wondering if he even heard her or was perhaps purposefully ignoring her. Was he truly annoyed at the idea of her sneaking out of the castle to see Caradoc? Or mad at the thought of her _dating_ Caradoc? Half of her hoped that wasn’t the case. As much as she wanted to succeed at her job, she would take no pleasure in _Potter Exposed_ if she had to write it. The other half of her swelled happily at the thought that he could ever think about her _that_ way. She knew, in all likelihood, he was simply angry that she had broken school rules for an unsanctioned trip to the village.

“That was not what I had planned,” he said finally; it sounded as though he was choosing his words carefully. He stopped abruptly and she ran into him, reaching out to steady herself.

“Er sorry,” she said quickly, thankful for the darkness in the passageway as blush enveloped her face. She had unwittingly grabbed onto the back of his cloak to avoid falling. Her hands sprung away as though burned as he turned to meet her eye.

“Standard protocol for this type of rule breaking would involve your Head of House and a load of paperwork. In your case, Professor McGonagall would be notified and she would be in charge of your fate, which could be one detention of her choice, or many, or even expulsion, yes Miss Evans.”

She felt tears prodding at the back of her eyes. He seemed to notice under the light of his wand, for his face changed for the smallest of moments. In his eyes, she knew, he saw a terrified student trying to not let one mistake ruin her entire education and future. But to her, it was fear and disappointment in herself for blowing the assignment. She could not bear the thought of telling Caradoc what she had cost the _Prophet_.

His face was impassive once more as he continued: “I have no intention to include either Professor McGonagall or an immense amount of paperwork in my life any more than I already have to. So, I offer you this: you will come to my classroom two times a week to grade essays and quizzes starting immediately until I feel like you have received _sufficient_ punishment.”

She exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. _She was not going to be expelled._ And she was going to be spending loads of extra time with the subject of her exposé. Caradoc was going to be beside himself when she told him.

James was still studying her face, almost expectantly. She forced a slight, meek nod which did not appear to assuage him.

“I won’t promise to cover for you if you do something like this again, Lily,” he told her seriously. His voice was softer now when he said her name. The intensity of his stare was too much and her eyes fell to her feet.

“I understand. I… thank you, Professor. I don’t deserve you covering for me," she said, voice slightly strained as she tentatively looked back up again. 

He gave her one last look before turning around and leading her again. She thought she heard him mutter his agreement under his breath, but she couldn’t be certain. Still, she followed obediently behind him through the tunnel in silence.

Finally, they were ascending the long stone staircase that she knew would lead to the entrance back into Hogwarts. When they reached the top, James paused. Again, she got the feeling he was considering something. Still facing forward, he turned his head slightly in her direction as he spoke. “I will go first and check that there are no teachers or prefects about. If it is clear, I will knock on the door three times as a sign you should follow.”

“Okay. Sir.”

He pulled himself up and out of sight. She heard the slight creak of the passageway door once as it opened and twice as he shut it again, and waited. She didn’t know how long she was going to have to wait for him to return but was surprised when only a few minutes passed before she heard the three promised knocks. Hoping for the best, she followed him.

He was standing in the scarcely lit fifth floor corridor, mercifully alone. She let out her breath again and met him.

“Looks clear from here to Gryffindor tower, but I will accompany you to be sure.”

“Okay,” she agreed, beginning her own brisk pace in stride with him. “When should I come to… grade the essays?” It sounded like another euphemism and she nearly winced. She could hear Caradoc’s words ‘grading essays with my professor’…

“Tomorrow evening will do. We can decide the best two evenings for your detention then.”

She mumbled a quick word of agreement before going silent. Their footsteps echoed off the castle walls as they strolled. But he was proved correct: they did not come across any teachers or students. Finally, they arrived at the corridor where the Portrait of the Fat Lady resided.

Lily paused, scores of unspoken words swarming around her head. She owed him a great debt that he would live to regret if Caradoc had his way. Dread filled her entire body.

“Thanks,” she said lamely. “That sounds as stupid aloud as it does in my head. But truly, I am thankful. And I don’t deserve this kindness.”

James looked at her again, eyes narrowing like he was seeing through her. It made her squirm uncomfortably on the inside. “Yeah well… as you probably have heard from your boyfriend Dearborn, there were times I felt the rules were beneath me when I was in school. The difference was, I had a group of mates and a lot of dumb luck on my side that kept me from expulsion…” He paused, as if considering saying more, before settling on: “Good night, Miss Evans. See you tomorrow at eight.”

She nodded, mumbling a quick goodbye before racing forward to the portrait hole. When she glanced behind her, he had gone.

***

James slept poorly that night. Not that it surprised him in the least.

He stayed up late with the map in front of him, as though waiting for her dot to appear. After hours came and went with no movement beyond Filch patrolling the castle, he finally readied himself for bed. Stomach knotted, he lied there tossing and turning restlessly as time inched by. Despite his usual devil-may-care attitude, he was not unfamiliar with restless nights. They’d become common to him during his school years, mostly around the time of the full moon, or Quidditch finals when his nerves and excitement were high.

But this was decidedly different than those occasions. This restlessness was born mostly from anger, and then secondarily from worry, worry that she would do something, or hurt someone. (Deep down, he truly believed she _wouldn’t_ hurt someone, and that realization only fueled his anger more.) And on more than one occasion he got out of bed preparing himself to go to Dumbledore and speak to him, but he never wound up much further beyond grabbing his cloak, his mind going back to the pub, hearing Dorcas speak. If he went to Dumbledore now, _just_ on her word…

He kept coming back to the conversation he had with his friends at the Three Broomsticks. They’d spent the whole evening in discussion, talking through scenarios, plotting his next move. On and on the conversation went, long after his last glass was emptied of whiskey until the whole evening was spent on the subject. It always came back to the same thing — he wanted evidence. It was not enough to confront her or find a reason to expel her. James needed to find out what she was there for, what her article was going to be about, what intel she had gathered over the couple of months she had been posing as a student. If confronted, she could lie, feign indignation, and possibly leave on her own with all the information she had already accumulated. If she were expelled, all the more reason to leave with whatever she’d gathered.

But if she gave herself away, was caught in a lie that she couldn’t sneak her way out of…

Or if he continued to be a point of confidence for her, if he could keep her trust, perhaps she could be persuaded to tell the truth about what she was up to.

Whatever the case, James knew he would have to find a way to curb his anger, to tuck it deep inside, or better yet, re-purpose it into resolve for this task. He had to remain the same person she felt safe to confide in if this were ever going to work.

She thought she was the only one who could act the part? She was going to find out how very wrong she was about that.

Mischief and secrecy were second-nature to him when he was a student at Hogwarts. A nature he had inhibited in favor of authority in the form of a small scarlet and gold badge and then for the addition of _professor_ to his name. Perhaps it was time to be a little less _Professor Potter_ and a little more _Prongs_.

***

Lily found it serendipitous — and when reflecting later, would find it ironic — that just as she received clear directive on her exposé topic, she was expected to be in his presence almost daily now that she had landed herself detentions on top of normal classes and the extra lessons on Sunday afternoons. She knew it would be difficult to question him without either giving herself away or getting an authoritative wall staring back at her. But the opportunity to continue to get to know him was there. What she hadn’t quite yet figured out was how to go about exploring the angle, apart from waiting to see if he ever did or said anything questionable.

She wasn’t keen on the idea of interviewing any other students about it, unsure about how she could bring it up naturally. Certainly, walking up to other seventh years to see if James had ever treated them as anything beyond a student simply wouldn’t work. It would raise too many questions, questions she was not yet prepared to answer.

That left _this_ — spending time with him. Seeing what else she could learn about him and his teaching methods.

She bounced between anxiety and elation at the prospect of spending more time with him. And she knew it was stupid.

She also _knew_ Caradoc was wrong. That James kept his distance and remained professional with the students.

However…

_If_ she had to start somewhere, she would start with Quidditch, as Caradoc rightly, sickeningly, suggested to.

When quarter to eight came, Lily readied herself for the first of what she expected to be many detentions. She made up an excuse to Mary and Marlene that she had last-minute studying she wanted to do and marched through the common room and out of the portrait hole without a glance toward Charlie who was deeply involved in a hush-toned discussion with Paul.

She arrived at the Defense classroom, her stomach already fluttering like she had swallowed hundreds of butterflies. She gave the door a brisk knock and was met with an easy, “Come in,” from the other side. Her eyes found James instantly. He was sitting — no, _lounging_ behind his desk with his feet propped up. He was reclined back slightly, his head tilted upward as he threw a quaffle in the air before catching it.

“Ah, Evans. Punctual as ever,” he said, sparing a glance at her before tracking the trajectory of the quaffle once more.

“Good evening,” she greeted meekly. Her eyes were locked on him and, curiously, he remained in his casual position even as she strolled further into the room. She had no memory of him _ever_ acting like this in the past. Why? Or rather, why _now_?

When she stopped two rows in front of his desk, he shot the quaffle high into the air, almost to the point where it hit the vaulted ceiling of his classroom, very nearly smashing a hanging chandelier, before he caught it easily and threw his legs off his desk.

“Can you catch?” he asked, gesturing to her with the ball. She found herself nodding before holding her arms out as he underhanded the quaffle to her.

“You call that a throw?” she teased without thinking, tossing the quaffle back at him.

He caught it with a solid thunk, and for an instant she thought a fleeting look of interest — almost as if he were impressed — crossed his features. He rolled the ball between steepled fingers and gazed up at her through his glasses, a slight tug to his lips.

“Not bad, Evans. Are you sure you’ve never played Quidditch? In a _past life_ perhaps?”

“Quite sure,” she said, pulling her fingers through her hair before tucking the rogue strands behind her ear. She lowered herself onto the seat nearest her.

“Shame. I overheard Fawcett talking about your Quidditch strategizing. Perhaps you would have found interest in playing if you hadn’t been home-schooled.” He set the quaffle on his desk before standing up. He rolled his sleeves up his forearms as he strode to the front of his desk and sat on it, a smile upturned his lips like he knew a joke she didn’t.

“Perhaps,” she agreed, anxious to move on from any discussion about her previous educational history. “And it was nothing… with Charlie, I mean. He was reading that Puddlemere book when I saw him in the library and we got to talking. He mentioned you’d gifted him that when he became captain. That’s very kind of you.”

James crossed his arms over his chest before he spoke. “No use I was getting out of it. And between us, I don’t think _I_ was the kind one during that exchange.”

“What do you mean?”

He laughed, though it didn’t sound _quite_ right. “I attempted to give that book to the Ravenclaw captain the year before, and was met with a very colorful and emphatic _no_.”

Lily, who had not been expecting this admission, forced out a laugh that she hoped sounded more genuine than what he had previously done. “You think Charlie was being nice to you by taking it?”

James shrugged, uncrossing his arms. “I wouldn’t put it past him. But, it’s out of my possession, which is the main thing I was aiming for. Over the years I’ve found that I have accumulated many things that I no longer need. When you’re out of school for a few years, I’m sure you’ll understand what I mean.” She nodded under his gaze. Their eyes locked on each other for a long moment until James cleared his throat. “Anyway…I should tell you, in my infinite wisdom, I set this detention for today forgetting I’d already caught up on grading _yesterday_ before going to Hogsmeade.”

“Oh.”

He turned, palming the quaffle again, as though he needed to keep his hands busy as he thought. “As you can imagine, I wasn’t expecting to have anyone for detention today.” She waited, hoping her face showed a look of mild questioning, rather than the fast-hearted anticipation she felt on the inside. “I was a little _rash_ , I think, assigning you detention straight away. _Hypocritical_ might be another word you could use. That’s not to say it is not a serious offense leaving the school grounds, in particular, to go to Hogsmeade and drink. But _I_ have done worse things. And I’m sure _you_ have certainly done worse things.”

“It was stupid,” she forced out. Was he about to _cancel_ all of her detentions? “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I have a few guesses,” he said, shrugging as he rolled the quaffle between his fingers. “In any case, all of this is to say that I don’t have anything for you to grade tonight, which will not be the case tomorrow. What do you think about Monday and Thursday detentions? Do those evenings work for your current schedule?”

Lily didn’t know whether to be relieved or upset about him confirming that detention was _not_ canceled. She was sure this uncertain reaction resulted in her looking as though she had a toothache. She could only nod.

“Excellent. Let’s do directly after dinner at seven, then.”

“Okay,” she said.

He stood up, leaving the quaffle on the desk behind him as he closed the distance between them. The disparity in their heights, which was already almost comical, grew tenfold as he approached her in her seated position.

“I do have something I wanted to talk to you about, Evans,” he told her, his voice almost soft. She swallowed. “I’ve gotten the impression that you feel… not, _lonely_ , per se, but _alone_ at times. So, I was thinking… I have a small set of Puddlemere trivia questions. It’s a bit unorthodox for detention, I’ll grant you, but I figured I’d see if you’d be interested in testing your brain on important life knowledge such as legendary Puddlemere players, championship games, and season winning percentages. What do you think?”

She had to stop herself from craning her neck to gaze up at him when she wanted nothing more than to stare at him whenever he was near her. Without thinking, she agreed. Even if she hadn’t been instructed to do so, she knew she would have been keen to spend more time with him. Her stomach was somersaulting with happiness at the thought of hanging out with him, and she only paused briefly to think about how unorthodox a detention this was turning out to be.

He had shown only the briefest sign of _Professor Potter_ — everything else was _James_. But why?

He seemed pleased at her agreement, a smirk again twisting his features in a way that made the butterflies in her stomach dance, before he swiftly turned away and made for his office. She tried not to stare at him as he left and, more importantly, as he returned, instead gazing around the room at nothing in particular. She only peered back up at him as he sat down at the desk in front of hers, straddling the chair as he opened a small box of blue cards on which she could see the familiar gold bulrushes.

“Are those official?” she asked, prompting him to glance up from the cards he was shuffling in his hands.

“I got this pack from a friend for my sixteenth birthday, I believe. So, some of the questions may be a bit dated, and a bit before your time. But who knows? Maybe you’ll surprise me.” A challenging smirk curled his lips at these words.

She did some very quick thinking. “Trying to psych me out, are you? I _can_ be a touch obsessive when it comes to Quidditch and may surprise you with how many old stats I have learned.”

“I think I recall you saying you’d been to the championship match against Chelsea, is that right? I was in my final year here, therefore that would’ve made you… what? Twelve or so.”

“Err thirteen. I have a January birthday.”

“Is that the earliest game you attended? If _I_ could have attended a championship match at thirteen, I’d probably be even more insufferable than I already am,” he said as he finished shuffling the trivia cards.

She laughed, trying to abate her growing nerves. “It wasn’t. My first was, I think, two years prior.”

“I still find it interesting you don’t support a team in France. You must have traveled here often? To have been able to go to so many matches.”

“Often enough, especially, y’know during the summer holidays.”

“Right. With your mum, I presume. Hmm. Well, should we give these questions a go? It’s been a while since I’ve gone through them. It should be fun, I’d wager.”

Fun was not the word she would have chosen, nor the word she would christen the evening with when she finally made it back to her dormitory.

There was something about the look in his eye as she answered questions. It was calculated at times, as though she was being tested for some arbitrary exam instead of casually answering trivia questions as he had initially presented. It reminded her partly of the men she had met in the past who doubted her interest in Quidditch and showed that doubt by asking borderline-insane questions like “What is the birthday of the third-string Keeper from the 1882 season?” Then when she showed even the slightest weakness or hesitation in answering, they clung to it as if it were absolute proof that she was a fraud.

Granted it didn’t feel that aggressive with James because she knew several of the answers. But it unsettled her to feel scrutinized.

What stayed with her more than how he acted during the questioning, was his comment about the Puddlemere strategy book. It wasn’t about Charlie, or Gryffindor, even. Certainly, it was just a book and didn’t prove much compared to the interaction between him and Charlie that she had seen with her own eyes. But her little heart still clung to it, felt validated by it. And likely would be fairly happy to note it as evidence against the notion that James treated students with bias or that he was _friends_ with them...

As she left the classroom, her mind still feeling numb from all the Quidditch questions James had thrown at her, a nagging little thought kept coming back to her mind. Poking at her. James had been friendlier than ever before. He had shed his authoritative tone and attitude around her, laughing with her, talking to her. They had spoken about the Chelsea match at length, comparing notes on the most exciting parts. He seemed extremely interested — too interested? — in what she was saying.

Her little heart dared think — _did_ he ever hang out with other students that way? Could he possibly see her as a friend? _Or something more?_

She knew this idea was absurd, and she was likely influenced by a mixture of Caradoc’s goading commentary and her own desire to read into a strictly advisory relationship.

As she bathed, washing away the remnants of another mentally exhausting day, Caradoc’s words hung heavily in her brain, like a set of dark clouds ahead of a pending thunderstorm. She remembered her first-ever conversation with Caradoc about reporting, about the effort and dedication it took to not only find an angle but ultimately the truth that people deserved to know. Whatever pressure he was currently under from Bones to lock down an angle, she decided that Caradoc of three months ago would have advised her to carry forward, leaving no stone unturned. So, while she resolved herself to continue meeting with James (not as if she had a choice otherwise) to learn more about him and his relationships with students, she decided that she would redouble her efforts on other ideas she still felt worthy of exploring.

What Caradoc didn’t know…

***

The classroom door had only just kissed the frame as James dove into his pocket and grabbed the map. He had taken to carrying it around with him at all times now, having it always readily available to glance at and find the minuscule dot representing the woman who had just left his classroom. She hadn’t been up to much since the previous day, but his mind could not rest until he saw it with his own eyes. 

He watched her travel through the corridors toward Gryffindor tower. As the dot snaked across the parchment, his mind replayed some of the conversation from the evening. She had been supremely knowledgeable about Puddlemere. The kind of knowledgeable that would have him equal parts impressed and floored under any other circumstance. Lily had mentioned a few games she’d attended but they were in what should have amounted to their sixth year. He tried to trip her up with the wrong player’s name or the wrong opponent a few times, just to see if she was genuine in her responses, and she swiftly corrected him each time he did so. The conclusion he was rapidly coming to was that she had not lied about being a Quidditch or Puddlemere fan in particular.

He didn’t quite know how he felt about this. The conversation with his friends and the late, restless night spent in his own head drove him mad about it. It had crossed his mind more than once — more than he cared to admit — that she was only feigning interest in Puddlemere because of _him_. He knew in his sobriety, in the clear mind that brightened with the rising sun, that this idea was _mad_. To think that Dearborn would have remembered he was a Puddlemere fan, then made it a focus of interest for her to study before the assignment? To what end, anyway? To be friendly with him? To garner interest from him? If her focus had been to write about Quidditch, his opinion about Puddlemere likely would not make the compelling story for which the _Prophet_ was probably aiming.

He _knew_ all of these things when thinking clearly, difficult as that was at times, especially when everything was mad about this whole scenario. This, however, went _beyond_ the normal level of mad. But he could not help himself from checking, with Remus’ voice of reason in the back of his mind. As angry as he was about being lied to, his friend was adamant it could not _all_ have been a lie. And at this point, James believed him. But Quidditch was Quidditch — inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, irrelevant when considering the bigger picture of why she was there. Maybe she wasn’t a _liar_ about everything, but certainly, everything she had ever told him was predicated on the lie that was her existence.

The dot had long since disappeared into the girls’ dormitory (of which the map did not show) when James was brought out of his thoughts. Folding it up, he rose from his chair, threading both hands through his hair in frustration as he mentally prepared himself to see her the next day in detention.

Exhausted at even the thought of another Monday full of classes, office hours, then an even more taxing detention, James had half the mind to ignore Sirius’ voice when it came through the mirror. Ultimately though, he answered long enough to tell Sirius that they would talk soon before pocketing the mirror and map once more and heading into his room for the evening.

***

For the first time in his short career as a professor, James woke up entirely out of his element. He had ignored the alarm, which clanged violently on his nightstand, to the point that he ran out of time to go for his morning run. Blearily, he dragged himself through a shower before rushing down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

From the instant he awoke, his thoughts went to directly Lily, as though his brain was magnetized. So, it was no surprise to him that he sought her as soon as he entered the hall. He allowed himself only a few seconds looking at her — sitting between McKinnon and Macdonald, long hair plaited back, a laugh brightening her features — before he continued purposefully toward the staff table. He threw himself down into his chair, turning to see Professor McGonagall’s raised eyebrows.

“Feeling well today, James?”

He nodded, sitting up in his seat. “I’m not sleeping particularly well these days.”

“Perhaps you have a cold coming on. Madam Pomfrey has just restocked her Pepper Ups.”

“Oh, good. Thank you for the notice.”

This brief yet tense exchange with Minerva, plus the generous and strong cup of coffee he poured himself, were quite the thing James needed to straighten up. As focused as he had been on Lily and her planning, and _his_ plan to find out _her_ plan, he could feel himself starting to lose sight of Professor Potter on his way to becoming Prongs. It was a balancing act, one he had to handle delicately and with finesse if he were to achieve anything.

Yet, even so, his eyes traveled back to the Gryffindor table more than once. And as he carried on through his busiest day of the week, he brought the map with him, glancing at it between and during his classes. Fortunately, he had acquired Lily’s schedule from Professor McGonagall, a lifetime earlier, when he was asked to cover Professor Slughorn’s classes and was given timetables for a few of the seventh years who were recommended to assist him.

For the most part, Lily was where she was supposed to be whenever James reviewed the map throughout the school day. She regularly got to her classes early, from what he could tell, and sat there, sometimes for twenty minutes waiting for the lessons to start. And at one point, she spent her free period down in the Potions classroom, though he couldn’t tell for how long due to having a teaching period at that time.

The rest of his day passed by in a blink of his eye, his office hours, in particular, keeping him busy with a queue of students. He had finally succeeded in distracting himself from Lily as he threw himself into these studying sessions. That was until Melanie Abbott came, just a few minutes before his office hours ended. Abbott appeared to have taken the extra credit assignment to heart and was asking countless questions about the proposed Wizarding Protection Act she’d read about in the _Prophet_. She was the first to complete the assignment, and for a fleeting moment, James thought that he couldn’t wait to tell Lily about it. And then just as Abbott left, he felt like he was hit in the stomach. The memory of him and Lily talking about the assignment poured into his brain. She had been _elated_ when she stayed behind to talk about it. And flattered when he gave credit where it was due. At the time, it had seemed like she cared greatly that the seventh years learn what was happening in the wizarding world.

Between Abbott’s prolonged conversation and the swell of thoughts that followed, James nearly missed dinner. By the time he pulled himself back to the present, he was forced to go down to the kitchen to snag his food before Lily arrived for detention. He arrived back at his classroom, plate and goblet in hand mere minutes before he heard footsteps approaching his door.

“Come in,” he called, concentrating on cutting the potatoes on his plate instead of the woman entering.

“Evening,” she replied, footsteps soft as she entered. “Oh, sorry. Am I early?”

“Nah,” he said, eyes finally rising to see her. She was still wearing her school uniform, her dark red hair splaying loosely over her shoulders in a way he rarely saw it. Not that he noticed. “I was held up during my office hours… You may be interested to know the first extra credit assignment was completed this afternoon by Miss Abbott.”

“Really?” Her lips curled into a broad smile as she spoke, in a way that dropped James’ stomach. It looked _real_ or she was damn good at acting. He didn’t know which thought twisted his stomach more. “That’s fantastic. Hopefully, she won’t be the last.”

“I agree,” he said, rising from his chair finally and gesturing to her to sit at the desk nearest her. He grabbed the stack of homework and quizzes off his desk, along with his answer keys, and set them down in front of her. “Quizzes from the third years, homework assignments from the first years. I doubt you’ll need it — star pupil as you are — but I’ll provide you the answers to reference as needed.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and strode back to his desk. Sliding back into his seat, he thumbed the wireless on and resumed his meal. After a moment, he glanced up at Lily and noticed she was staring at him, though as soon as their eyes met hers dropped down to the parchment in front of her.

“Sorry. Will the wireless bother you?”

“Not at all.”

He tucked back into his food without further comment. He glanced up at her between bites of his meal and noticed her foot tapping along to the song on the wireless; when he stared closely, he could see her lips making soundless words. He had on his favorite station, which played popular wizard rock from his Hogwarts years. After he finished his meal, he pushed his plate to the furthest side of his desk then folded open his recent copy of the _Daily Prophet_.

Since the previous detention, he had spent much of his free time — limited though it was — thinking about ways he might be able to trip her up, find out more about her that she was either lying about or hiding away. One obvious topic came to mind. It was something that normally he would never ask a student about, nor care to know. But Lily was no student. 

“I must say… I was more than a little shocked to find out that you know Dearborn,” he said casually as he leaned back in his chair, legs now propped up on his desk, face hidden from view behind the paper. He no longer trusted that he wouldn’t give anything away if his face were visible. Loathe he was to admit it, time spent on the other side of authority had dulled his skills.

“Oh. Err… Well, we are… family friends, I suppose you could say. Reconnecting now that I’m back from France—”

“That’s interesting. I take it your mums are friends? I wasn’t aware the Dearborns spent much time in France. I don’t recall Dearborn knowing anything about France when we were in school.” Despite himself, he peeked around the corner of the paper enough that his left eye could see where Lily sat. Her quill lingered over the parchment and her dark red hair fell on either side of her face like red tapestries.

“We lived in England for a short time before going back to France,” she said after a pause. James thought she was fighting to keep her concentration, and felt a small smug surge of pride at this thought.

“Is that how you met Snape?”

The quill slipped on the parchment and James had to stifle a laugh. “Oh. Snape?”

“Yes, Severus Snape. He recognized you at the Slug Club party without an introduction,” he said without thinking.

“Um, yes. When we moved back to England my family lived in the same neighborhood as Severus and his family. But… only for a short time, like I’ve said, before we moved back to France. Severus was already well into school at Hogwarts by then.”

“Uh-huh.” He made a point to ruffle the paper, and her eyes shot up to him. He kept his face impassive as he blocked himself from her view once more. “Between the two of them, I’m sure you’ve heard your fair share of stories about me, eh?”

“No, actually,” she said, quickly. “I haven’t seen Sev in ages. And I hadn’t spoken to Caradoc about you before the other night… when we saw you and your friends at the pub.” She sounded vehement as she spoke, and he had to restrain himself from lowering the paper to see the look on her face. “And I doubt he would have said much if your friend hadn’t stopped by our table.”

“My friend?” he asked automatically.

“Yeah, _Black_. Sirius Black, I think it was? Is he… is that the same Black family—”

“Who disowned him when he was sixteen for speaking out against their blood purism fanaticism? Yeah, that’s the one.” His face felt hot as a surge of anger shot through him, quickening his heart rate.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

He swallowed down his anger at her pleading tone and exhaled before answering. “No, I’m sorry. I can get a bit defensive of Sirius. I consider him my brother. My parents sort of adopted him when he ran away from home.”

“I didn’t know.” Her words came out quickly, with apology, and James was surprised at how it bothered him.

“How could you have? It’s not a widely known story, and I’m sure you’re astute enough to understand why. He showed up on my doorstep, sodden to the bones with a split lip and a blacked eye — he’s always liked to taunt people when dueling, and he pays for it often — and there was no other decision to consider. His home was my home.”

Lily fell silent, even the scratch of the quill notably absent, and James was overcome with the urge to know what she was thinking. Though he knew it would likely be infuriating to know.

“He hadn’t mentioned that he spoke to you,” he said, again working to sound casual in his tone.

“It wasn’t a remarkably involved conversation. He mostly seemed interested in… bothering Caradoc, I suppose you could say.”

James laughed despite himself, his head shaking. “That sounds like Sirius.” He folded the paper at the seam so he could speak over it to her. “If you’re interested, I must disclose that I have a strict policy about setting students up with my mates. ‘Fraid you may have to wait until you’re kicked out of here.”

She met his smirk with a level, unamused stare of her own. “I’ll pass. You can pass on my sincere condolences at his loss though.”

He swiftly folded the paper up to cover his laugh. She was infuriating, hilarious. And he shouldn’t be brought to laughter by her. He felt his anger at her, at the situation, slipping through his fingers, and he was desperate to reach out and capture it once more. “I will pass on your regrets,” he forced out, hoping his voice sounded less strained to her ears than it did to his own.

“He’ll get through the devastation, no doubt.”

“If you change your mind, there’s a good chance you can find him at the Three Broomsticks.” A little nagging voice in the back of his mind protested this suggestion, this image of her and Sirius.... He promptly told the little nagging voice to fuck off.

“I’ll make sure to jot that down, thanks.” Her voice sounded cool to his ears, but he couldn’t risk lowering the paper to see her reaction.

He fell silent again, his emotions juggling anger, annoyance, and amusement, jostling his thoughts until he couldn’t sort through them. He half wanted to end the detention, kick her out early so that he could get his mind straight. But a part of him didn’t think it would make any difference. She was a master at her craft, and he felt woefully unqualified to even be on the same field as her, let alone trying to play the game against her.

He let time pass; the scratching of Lily’s quill interwoven between the melodies coming through the wireless clouded his mind. He tried to push through and read the _Prophet_ but his heart wasn’t in it. He peered around the paper at her again as saw her shifting the piles of parchment around.

He folded the newspaper haphazardly before tossing it onto his desk and turning his attention directly to her. “Finally, an uneventful _Prophet_ edition, to the extent that it’s bored me…” She peered up at him between the wavy locks of hair for a long moment before turning her attention back to the parchment with a noncommittal shrug. “What do you like to do for fun, Evans?”

“Oh…err… well… I like to write.”

“Really?” He kept his face impassive. “Have you ever considered applying for a job at the _Daily Prophet_?”

“No,” she said quickly, still looking at the parchment she was marking. It was nearly impossible for him to keep the grin off his face as she mumbled out a quick: “Err nope.”

“Huh… If you have any interest, I’m sure Professor Slughorn would be more than happy to arrange an introduction with some of the editorial staff.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t… It’s really more of a hobby. Y’know…poetry.” Her eyes darted up to him then down to the parchment so quickly that he thought he might have imagined it.

“Ah. I understand the compulsion. I enjoy a bit of drawing and painting myself.”

“Yeah, I thought you’d mentioned that when we were pumpkin carving. It was certainly evident there. Did you design your tattoo?”

“What?” He felt off-balance at these words. As far as he knew, no one at the school knew about his tattoos, all of which he got after he graduated, and most of which were in places people didn’t see. Then suddenly he thought about the tattoo branded on his arm and stopped himself from reaching out to touch it. He and his friends had been thrilled when he’d come up with the idea. Four sets of footprints — a rat, a dog, a stag, and a man’s. A man’s prints that walked alongside the others but faded away as the cycle of the moon changed until in its place was another set of paw prints. The cycle was endless. A reminder of what could not be changed, or ended, only endured. A reminder of the steps they’d taken to always be able to walk together.

James was brought out of his thoughts by her tentative reply: “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I… err, a while ago when we had a lesson you were wearing a shirt and I saw it just under your sleeve.”

“I did. Design it, that is.” He kept his tone purposefully succinct. She needn’t know anything about his tattoo. And there was no chance she’d ever see it again.

Despite her words, she did indeed look as if she wanted to pry, as though it was unnatural for her to not follow with another question. But for some reason, she let the subject go with a small shake of her head before resuming her task. James tore his eyes away from her after a prolonged stare, folding his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. A few minutes of content silence elapsed with the only sound coming from the wireless on his desk and the occasional scrawl of Lily’s quill on a piece of parchment, when suddenly a small figure rushed into the room.

“Oh. Sorry, sir.”

James’ eyes shot open and he sprung from his chair, striding forward to greet Arthur Adams, a second-year Hufflepuff, who looked disheveled from his sandy brown hair to his loosely tied trainers. Arthur looked stricken and a bit windswept as he took another tentative step nearer to James. “No need to apologize. What can I help you with, Mister Adams?” Arthur’s eyes darted over to where Lily was sitting. “This is Miss Evans. She’s currently grading some homework assignments. Nothing to worry about.”

The boy nodded, though his eyes still traveled between James and Lily and he continued to appear nervous. “I was _only_ studying in the library, Professor, and I heard… well… I was wondering if you could tell me what the word _Mudblood_ means?”

James blinked. “Sorry. What?”

Arthur swallowed, hands balled at his side as he steadied himself. “I heard the word and none of my friends will tell me what it means.”

“Ah,” said James, stomach twisting. He approached until he was standing mere feet from the boy, then crouched down to speak to him more levelly. “Arthur. Did someone call you that?”

“Err… yeah.” He eyed James with a guise of intense consideration before continuing: “Fawley, sir.”

James inhaled sharply, leaning away from Arthur and straightening up again. “Some witches and wizards, like Miss Fawley, use that as a derogatory word — that is to say, it is an insult to those with Muggle parentage.” Arthur considered this, James thought, in the way that any twelve-year-old _would_. Mild confusion before untampered scowling upon understanding. “They… believe that somehow having wizard parents makes someone superior and _more_ magical — and Mister Adams, I can assure you _more_ magical is not a thing. More talented, certainly. Some tend to be more naturally talented than others, even. But that has been in no way ever associated with a wizard’s lineage. Regardless of what some may say.”

Arthur nodded. Though he did not appear to be fully convinced, his spirits lifted. “You won’t say anything to her about this, will you? Sir?”

James shook his head. “I won’t. But you should tell her how interesting it is that as a pureblood she couldn’t get further than ten feet off the ground during flying lessons, whereas you are trying out for seeker of the house team next year.”

“I _am_?!”

“You are now. You have a natural talent for flying, I’d always thought. Put in a bit of work and you may make a fair seeker,” James said with a wink. “In any case, it’s nearly your curfew. You had better go, Mister Adams.”

With renewed spirits and a spring in his step, Arthur smiled brightly at him, and James was reminded fondly of twelve-year-old Remus. “Thanks, Professor.”

James gave a quick nod as the boy turned and sprinted from the room. “Oy — don’t _run_!” James called, hastening forward to follow him. “You’ll draw the attention of… Filch.” He sighed as he peered down the corridor and realized Arthur was already out of sight and likely earshot. He’d have to keep an eye out for upcoming detentions to see if Arthur made it back in time or if he had the misfortune of running into Filch on his way.

When he returned to his classroom from the corridor, Lily was staring at him, her quill, which was suspended in the air, dropped spots of ink on the parchment she was marking.

“Your quill, Evans,” he said, his eyes directing her to the mess she was making.

“Shit,” she breathed out, almost too softly for him to hear. “Sorry.” She quickly drew her wand and siphoned the ink away. Nonverbally, of course.

It was not for the first time since learning the truth about Lily that he realized how unobservant he had been this whole time. She had talent, but most of her magic looked as if she practiced, as though she had been doing it for years. At these thoughts, he was transported back to the staff room, hearing Professor McGonagall’s voice in his head marveling at this very thought. They had all seen it months ago but had thought little of it.

Her scrutinizing gaze had returned, and he felt a small wave of grim satisfaction that he was blind to it no longer.

“Nearly finished?”

Her eyes stayed locked on him, but then as he drew nearer, they traveled across his face and down to his feet. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Looks like only a handful left,” she said, once she tore her eyes away from him.

“I can finish those up. You may go.”

***

Luckily for James, the next day started better than the previous. He did _not_ snooze his alarm relentlessly which gave him the much-needed mind-clearing boost he certainly missed the previous day in the form of a long run near the Black Lake. And though he would see Lily in his first Defense class of the day, he felt he was in a good place to handle it.

But he needn’t have worried about her during the class. She remained attentive enough, if her diligent note-taking were any indication, but her eyes, the daring green scrutinizing eyes, never reached his own. He thought briefly she was avoiding his gaze, but after the previous evening, it didn’t make sense. As the class worked through several written questions in small groups, he mulled over the idea of making up a reason to keep her behind, but still found he was mentally exhausted from the previous two nights where she really hadn’t given much away. She admitted to knowing Caradoc and Snape. Though he was fairly confident neither were family friends of hers, he had no evidence currently to the contrary.

Thus, instead of keeping her behind, he dismissed the class as a whole, returning to his desk without a glance at the retreating seventh years. He only glanced back up when the last student had gone.

He opted to go to the kitchens once more for lunch to avoid seeing Lily, though she still entered his thoughts as he went about the rest of the school day. He was aware of the level of obsession that was overcoming him as the hours went on. As more time passed, he started feeling weary about occasionally spying on her with the map. But every time this feeling of privacy invasion overcame him, he kept coming back to that conversation with Dorcas, the thought of her going around the castle, collecting evidence of some kind for an exposé. Something that would undoubtedly hurt Hogwarts. And with this new tether to reality secured in his mind, he rationalized another glimpse of the map.

And so, James couldn’t help but unfurl the map as he maintained his brisk pace through his classroom and up to his study following a late dinner that evening. As he threw the door open, his eyes sought the Gryffindor common room, but her dot was woefully missing from the ones labeled _Marlene McKinnon_ and _Mary Macdonald_. He thought that she might have retired to the dormitory for a brief time, but after a few minutes lapsed with no movement or reappearance of her dot in the common room, he began to doubt the theory. His eyes scanned the map further, landing on the library. It took him several minutes to sort through the dozens of dots that were hastily moving around and again found _Lily Evans_ missing.

Then, on a whim, his eyes flew down further on the map until he reached the Potions classroom and his stomach jumped. There she was, in the classroom he had seen her in the day before, only this time instead of her sitting alone at one of the class tables, she was standing in the corner of the room with the storage closet, next to a dot labeled _Horace Slughorn_.

Without sparing even the smallest thought elsewhere, James dove his hand into his pocket and in one swirling motion, wrapped the invisibility cloak over himself. He tore down the steps and through his classroom recklessly, stopping only for the time it took him to open, shut, and then lock his classroom door. Then off he went, down the still abandoned corridor, cloaked in invisibility, but thankfully able to avoid the need for weaving between students as he went. A brisk three minutes later he was jogging down the stairs to the dungeons, a small sheen of sweat lining his brow as he slowed to a quieter march.

He quieted further as he approached the beginning of the corridor with Slughorn’s classroom. Luck appeared to be on his side though, as he realized with an excited jerk in his navel that the door to the room had been left open. He continued his quiet pace into the room, careful to watch his step as he wove through the desks. Thankfully, the room was still well-lit — considering classes had concluded hours previously — and he navigated through it with little issue. His heart jumped, stopping him in his tracks once he came near enough to hear their conversation.

“Thank you, again, Professor Slughorn, for allowing me to shadow you as you perform inventory on your supplies.”

“Oh, not at all, m’dear, not at all. I’d offer you extra credit for your assistance if there was ever a reason that you’d need it!” James couldn’t see them from where he stood, still between two of the brewing tables, but he could picture Slughorn’s face plainly as he listened. “Though I will say, this may prove valuable training for your future career.”

“Indeed… How frequent is it you said you conducted inventory, Professor?”

“Every fortnight is always my intention. But as you know, things do come up at times…”

“Understood. This isn’t something you could enlist a student to help with, is it?”

“That’s not my preference, no. The Headmaster prefers I manage the stores and handle the owl orders for new ingredients. I’d never suggested passing it on for a student to manage…” Though it sounded like he wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea.

“So, the inventory is mostly for restocking purposes? As opposed to say, tracking? Or something like accounting for misplaced ingredients?”

Slughorn didn’t answer immediately, and James wished he were able to see his reaction. Based on the tightness of Slughorn’s next words, James guessed she had struck a nerve with him. “Misplaced ingredients?”

Another pause came, and James thought Lily must have caught on to Slughorn’s tone as well and was choosing her next words carefully. “For example, a student grabbing… say, five slugs when the potion only requires three, and the student puts the two remaining in his own potions kit rather than returning it to storage?”

Slughorn laughed, though not in his normally loud way. It sounded almost relieved to James’ ears. “Ah, well no. That’s never been a major problem here. Most Hogwarts students are trustworthy, you’ll find, Miss Evans.”

"Oh! Of course. I didn't intend to imply otherwise, sir. I just find it all so fascinating. Managing this all is much more complex than I would have thought initially," she said, voice light with compliment. "You're very clearly an expert."

"Thank you, Miss Evans. I've always felt that the detail required to manage an entire potions department, run classes, _and_ brew for the entire school is never _properly_ acknowledged." Slughorn's jovial tone sounded as if she'd offered him an entire crate filled with crystallized pineapple. James smirked despite himself.

“I was wondering...Surely there are some ingredients that are particularly rare, or controlled, even…Are there any concerns about you not having direct oversight on those types of ingredients in storage?”

James dared walk further into the room until he could see into the storage closet. Slughorn was shifting through the ingredients on the shelves, while Lily stood further behind him, a ledger in her arms that she was evidently using to assist with inventory, for the first time James suspected.

“There are five boxes of spleens,” he answered after a pause. “And generally not. I have private storage where I keep some of the rarer potion ingredients. For example, Ashwinder eggs are — as you know, of course — highly useful for the creation of several love potions, and most especially sought after for Felix Felicis brews. But can be particularly dangerous if stored improperly.”

“What about the ingredients that have the most versatile properties? Is there ever any concern about them being readily accessible to the younger students? Before they have studied them?” Lily fiddled with a label on the shelf behind her as though the questions were only casual musings.

Slughorn peeked over his shoulder at her as he considered this question. “No, I don’t believe so. Even the most versatile ingredient, such as valerian, is usually not nearly as useful if not used in the correct potion with the subsequently required ingredients.” James thought he saw Lily nod before Slughorn turned back around to the shelf. “It may give the impression of simplicity on the surface, potion brewing, but as with most magic, and arguably more than some, there are rules that must be learned and adhered to. Severus was often immersed in the study of ingredient properties. Did you find it useful to meet him?”

James thought Lily paused, as if unsure how to respond, but the moment went quickly before she answered. “Oh, yes. I will err be keeping in touch with him. Thank you for inviting him to the party.”

“Most excellent, Miss Evans. He was one of my best, most talented students, if not a little strange at times.”

James ignored his greater instinct to roll his eyes before remembering he was under the cloak and wouldn’t be seen for this reaction. He noted that she was downplaying her past relationship with Snape, at least to Slughorn. He waited impatiently for Lily to comment, but she made a noncommittal noise of agreement before Slughorn told her how many boxes of lacewing flies were in stock.

For the next five minutes or so, James stared at them, not daring to move any closer. He watched on, growing more and more disinterested as the time passed with no further conversation apart from conducting inventory and discussing some of the _interesting_ properties of some of the ingredients. He wondered if Lily thought she had pressed all of her luck with the question about misplaced ingredients and ceased her line of questioning.

There was _no_ doubt in his mind that’s what it was. He had stumbled upon Lily working, interrogating — the easy way she spoke served as her interrogation tool and it was masterful — Slughorn for information. Why else would she voluntarily agree to do extra work with him?

Once again, the pieces started falling into place in his mind, excitement cursing in his veins, increasing as though magnified by each pump of his heart. He swiftly exited the classroom, not bothering to wait to hear whatever fact about bezoars Slughorn was saying, and barreled once more through the corridors until he got back to his classroom. As he approached the room, he spun around to ensure the corridor was indeed empty before pulling the cloak off him and unlocking his door. He hastened inside, only taking a few steps before reaching for the mirror in his pocket.

“Sirius Black,” James called, continuing through the office at his brisk pace. He was near-boiling with pent-up energy as he took the steps up to his office three at a time. “Sirius Black!”

“Prongs, I’m here. So’s Moony. Everything all right?”

His best friend’s face came swimming into view just as James kicked his office door shut. The door locked behind him with a satisfying clank. “Relative to the current situation, I’d say yeah, things are going all right. I think I’ve figured out what she’s investigating.”

Sirius looked away from the mirror, over to his right, undoubtedly sharing a glance with the out-of-view Remus. His face was neutral when he met James’ eye again through the mirror. “Do tell!”

“I’ve just come from the Potions classroom. She was doing inventory with Slughorn—”

Remus’ face came into view. “What excuse did you give to come strolling into the Potions classroom at this time of night?”

“None? They never saw me.”

“Are you saying—”

“You used the cloak?” came Sirius’ voice, before the image of Remus disappeared with an indignant grunt and Sirius came into view again.

“Really, Prongs?”

James didn’t flinch, now bouncing between his desk and bed in restless excitement. “Yes. I dunno. I didn’t think about it, I saw them on the map and went. It was a good thing, too. I saw her there, interrogating Slughorn about his handling of potions ingredients, whether he keeps inventory, how he manages _controlled_ ingredients.”

“You think _Slughorn_ is being investigated?” Remus asked, skepticism apparent in his voice.

“It all _fits_. She was keen on getting a Slug Club invite. Why would she care to network after school when she already has a job? She was hanging around the potion’s classroom yesterday during a free period. Looking to catch a glimpse of Slughorn? Or have the privacy needed to ask him questions? I’d forgotten until now, but she was also early to class when I covered for Slughorn and she agreed to assist with those extra lessons.”

“Snivellus,” Sirius added, eyes darting between the mirror and Remus. “You said she knew Snivellus when she saw him at the party. Great Potions git, that one. Could he be involved?”

“Git is right,” James agreed, his heart rate increasing. “He’s a Potioneer at the Ministry evidently. If he had given her background, or intelligence, perhaps even some training at Potions to get Slughorn’s attention—”

“You think the Ministry is keeping track of what _Slughorn_ is doing?” Remus asked, pushing Sirius out of view and peering skeptically at James. “Why would they send a reporter if they were concerned about how he manages the school ingredients?”

“Maybe they’re not. Maybe Dearborn or someone heard a tip about Slughorn and they reached out to Snape solely to meet with Evans.”

“Snape probably wet his pants in over-excitement just looking at her when they were first introduced. Doubt a girl that pretty has ever spoken more than two words to the slime-ball.”

“He certainly was pleased to see her,” James said darkly.

“What do you ca—”

“But he also seemed surprised she was there,” James continued, ignoring Remus as though he hadn’t heard him. “I doubt he’s that proficient at acting if he knew she was intending to investigate Slughorn. I don’t think he knew she was here.”

“It makes sense to me. It doesn’t seem as though the _Prophet_ cares who she lies to as long as they get their story.”

“That does track.” James thumbed his bottom lip thoughtfully. “You should have heard Slughorn when she asked if he takes inventory to keep track of controlled ingredients. Whatever pleasant conversation he expected to have, that was certainly not it.”

“You sound impressed,” Remus said, his tone casual. Sirius shot a glare away from the mirror.

“ _Impressed_? Really, Moony?”

“Certainly. Why not impressed? It sounds like you saw her in her element, deeply concentrating on her craft.”

“Are you forgetting the bit where she’s lying to the _entire_ school about her _entire_ life?”

“Not her _entire_ life, according to you—”

James ran a hand through his hair, the tell that had inflected him as long as he could remember. “I have one goal here, Moony. Find out what she’s up to and stop it. I’d rather she be shit at her work so this would be easier for me to expose her.”

“James.” It was not a word he frequently heard from his best friends and his brain stumbled to a halt as it registered. “It’s perfectly normal and entirely understandable if you still _like_ her, Prongs. No one would fault you for that.”

“You two got on well,” Sirius added, delicately, now out of sight, replaced by Remus. “She changed your mind about students, Prongs.”

“Yeah, sure, minus the fact that she isn’t a bloody student. So, I’d consider that a moot point.”

Sirius, now back in view, shrugged. “If you say so, mate.”

“I _do_ say so.” The adrenaline was quickly subsiding, elation replaced by exhaustion. “I’m knackered and heading off to bed. Thanks for talking this through with me.”

“You got it, mate.”

“We’re here if you need us,” said Remus, swimming into view one last time. “Night, Prongs.”

“Night. And you lot have to figure out how to share the mirror. You about made me sick throwing it between the two of you.”

James could hear the remnants of their laughter as he tucked the mirror away. At least _they_ had something to laugh about. His good mood had officially evaporated, no doubt prompted by Remus’s unhelpful commentary. After thinking about barely anything apart from Evans over the last week or so, he wanted nothing more than to seal his mind, push all thoughts of her away. He tried to distract himself with a song on the wireless, or by reading the latest about Puddlemere in the paper — but aggravatingly, all those things did was make him think about her _more_.

***

By the time Thursday came around, James was mentally spent. Consumed by the thought of Lily, as torn as ever over his inaction. When it got to be too much, he went where he had always gone to work through his problems — the Quidditch pitch. He bypassed the Great Hall, wading through the unending sea of students that were flooding toward it for dinner, as he made his way to the pitch. He knew he didn’t have much time before Lily would be in his classroom for detention, but that was all the more reason for him to clear his head.

Thus, he flew. And then when flying wasn’t enough, he raided the Quidditch shed for a bludger and used all of his pent-up frustration smashing it around the field. He worked himself hard, pushing himself like he was back on the team, streaking across the field, slamming the bludger around until his mind was gratefully blank. He focused on flying, trying out feints and quick directional changes, swerving around invisible opponents until all thought beside Quidditch fell from his mind.

When he checked his watch and realized he only had a quarter of an hour before detention started, he wrangled the bludger and headed back to the castle. He had not intended to fly so hard and exert as much effort as he did. Yet as with most times, the adrenaline and rush of flying carried him beyond the point of exhaustion. Sweat stuck his jumper to his back, and his lungs stung from the heavy effort of breathing in the crisp evening air. A quick blazing shower would be just what he needed to finish his preparation for seeing Lily. He jogged through the entrance of the castle, trainers crunching on the stone steps as he went.

James muttered a few short pleasantries to the students who were trailing out of the Great Hall but he didn’t break stride. If anything, he quickened his pace further, not sparing a second to glance at his watch as his office drew closer with every step.

When he arrived at the classroom, he threw it open carelessly, finally shortening and slowing his stride. Twisting, he used one hand to throw the door forward and shut it again, while the other tugged at his jumper until he pulled it off of his head, knocking his glasses slightly askew. Folding the clothes into his hands, he began walking once more but stopped suddenly as though punched in the gut.

He swore instinctively as their eyes met. Lily was sitting at the same desk she had sat in last detention, a quill poised in her hand hovering over a small leather-bound notebook. Once again, she appeared to have lost attentiveness toward her task as her eyes surveyed him. He nearly threw the jumper back over his head as her eyes roamed over his chest, lingering, he thought, on the small patches of ink that were scattered on him.

Realization washed her features in the form of blush, and she tore her eyes from him back to the notebook before shutting it and swiftly pulling it off the desk and out of sight. She was set aflame, reddening from every inch of skin peeking out from under her shirt collar all the way up to her hairline. He quickened his stride, still having not said anything. He thought Lily's eyes might have jumped on and off him as he strode past her and up the stairs to his study.

But before he took another step toward his bath, he threw the jumper to the side and dove into the pocket of his cloak which hung by the door.

“Sirius Black!”

“Prongs — what’s going on?”

“I’ve got it. I think I’ve figured out how to get the evidence. Well, at least _where_ I can get the evidence.”

“Fuck. Where?”

“She’s got a notebook. I’m going to need some help, I think, figuring out a way to steal it.”

***

_Caradoc_

_I can’t do it. The more time I spend with him, the more I think about it — I can’t. I know I can produce more than one quality article on the subjects we already spoke about, the subjects that don’t include him. I know I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but it’s the truth and I stand by it even if I have to pack up my trunk and leave this assignment tomorrow for going against your directive._

_I know what you’ll say and I am not trying to change your mind. But I must tell you how I feel._

_I’d sooner quit than do anything to hurt him._

_I assure you I only need a little bit more time to work on alternative topics, and then I can sell you on the ideas._

_Lily_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got way longer than I anticipated, and I imagine chapter 8 will be on par if not worse. Sadly, this means it will probably take me a bit more time to get it done. I will post it as soon as it's ready.


	8. Oh Deer

_Lily_

_You said nothing was happening between the two of you when I saw you last. If I didn’t know better it sounds like either you have feelings for him or something is indeed going on between you two. Either way, whether you choose to write about him or not won’t change anything in the long run of your relationship with him, it can only impact your future with the_ Prophet _._

_He thinks you are seventeen and a hundred other things you are not. Something tells me he won’t appreciate finding out he’s been lied to, whatever he may feel about you presently. And I certainly don’t think you can salvage that, article or not. Whatever hope you’re holding onto that something could come of this seems misplaced. I can’t say I’m surprised, though. He had that effect on girls during school as well._

_Really think this through, Lily. If by the end of this week you still feel this way, I’m going to have to talk to Bones._

_Caradoc_

_***_

Her stomach was in knots. And just when she believed it couldn’t be _more_ knotted, Caradoc’s words swam back into her mind, the words burned into her brain as though they were branded there by molten iron. Like most people, she did not appreciate ultimatums. Like most people, she didn’t appreciate being spoken to as if she couldn’t trust her own instincts.

Caradoc’s words felt like he was doing both. She wanted to reply to his letter the instant she received it. Instead, she had filed it away in her notebook and put it out of her mind. Or at least, attempted to. She would answer him in a day or two. Or whenever she thought she could stomach it or have the mental fortitude to reply.

She’s expended most of her mental fortitude between detentions with James and a recent exchange of letters with Severus. Even with his minuscule script, he still sent scrolls crammed with words from top to bottom, and even in the margins. She assumed she had placated him by telling him she would meet him for dinner over the Christmas holidays, but that only prompted an even longer return letter that she had received the previous day and stuffed far into her bag. She’d have to burn it just like the others after she found the time to respond.

Caradoc had to take precedent of course.

_Really think this through…_

As if she hadn’t.

As if she didn’t spend most of her free time (and non-free time) thinking about _James_.

As if she could think of anything else as soon as her mind was quiet enough, as soon as the distractions ended and she was left alone with her thoughts. Thoughts where she replayed the way he grinned challengingly at her during their impromptu Quidditch trivia contest, the concerned look on his face as he equally educated and uplifted the tiny Hufflepuff boy called Arthur, the passion in his voice when he spoke about his friend turned brother Sirius Black. She had never been _more_ certain that someone was undeserving of scrutiny. She’d been so sick about the prospect of writing about him that she fell behind on keeping her notes current.

Ironically, she relished with sarcasm, seeing him shirtless had _not_ helped the situation in the least. She’d long since admitted to herself that he was cute, which led to attractive and fit very quickly. So, it should not have been a surprise to her that he’d look _so good_ without a shirt on. Deep down she knew she wasn’t surprised, but ultimately, she wasn’t prepared to see him that way. He had seemed _furious_ at the time, and in retrospect, she supposed she should have waited outside instead of coming into his classroom uninvited. She had gotten used to simply letting herself into places she wanted to be that she hadn’t considered how he’d react.

But he must have washed away whatever anger he had because he reentered his classroom fresh from a bath ( _that_ she stopped herself abruptly from thinking about) and never brought the incident back up.

She certainly had no objections, but she couldn’t unsee what her eyes had devoured. It was later that evening as she lied awake in bed that she realized how long it had been since she was involved with someone. Her last serious boyfriend was Amos, and she balked at the idea of even calling him serious. Other than a couple of brief flings after Amos, it had been a _long_ time since she’d been with anyone who set her aflame. In the darkness of her room, behind the drawn curtains of her four-poster, deep in her thoughts, James certainly set her aflame. How she wished the fantasy could be real.

The next morning she’d prepared herself to see him, dreams of his broad shoulders, muscled arms, fresh in her mind. She almost wanted to feign illness to avoid the embarrassment in the form of tomato red blush she knew she’d succumb to at the sight of him. Yet she persevered, forcing herself into conversation with Mary and Marlene to distract herself from what she felt to be inevitable.

When they arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast, her eyes flickered around the hall, faking a casualness she suspected she’d have to wear on her face all day, until her eyes fell on the staff table. Sadly, or perhaps, _not_ sadly, James was nowhere to be seen. Though with a double period of Defense first thing, she knew she’d be seeing him before long.

She followed the girls down the table and redoubled her attention back on them. The subject flitted from one to the next as they slowly worked their way through toast and porridge. Lily’s _Daily Prophet_ came later than usual, and she was forced to tuck it into her bag to read later, though only after promising Mary that she could read it after for her Defense extra credit assignment.

“Morning,” a cheerful voice said, just as Lily’s fingers released the clasp on her bag. She looked up and met the glowing smile and bright blue eyes of Charlie.

“Hello,” she said, in unison with Mary and Marlene. The girls all shared silly smiling looks at this. Charlie glanced between them with his own bemused smile.

“You lot coming to the match tomorrow?”

“Don’t we always?” Mary asked, impatience in her voice as she used a piece of toast to scoop out the last of her porridge.

“Dunno. It’s Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, isn’t it? Not exactly the match of the year for Gryffindors. And it looks as though it’s going to snow.”

“Are you campaigning for other houses now?”

“Yeah, you’ve got to work on your tactics if you’re trying to convince us to go,” Marlene added, wiping the corner of her mouth before tossing her napkin onto her newly-emptied bowl. 

“Cheeky, this morning, aren’t they?” Charlie asked, turning toward Lily with a conspiratorial whisper.

“I think they have a point, Charlie. You’re severely underestimating how bored we all are, and Quidditch for a few hours certainly can liven up a Saturday.”

Charlie grinned broadly at her, and her stomach churned guiltily, knowing he was growing more fond of her. Not fond enough, it turned out, to give her any information about the _betting pool_. But she was still waiting for an opportune moment alone with Paul Stebbins and had backed off the issue with Charlie at the present. “Do you want to sit with us? I’d love for another set of eyes while we’re scouting, Lily.”

“She’d _loved_ to,” Mary said, playfully shoving Lily’s shoulder. “She was just saying there wasn’t enough Quidditch strategizing in her daily life, weren’t you Lil?”

“Not in the _least_ , Mare.”

“Honestly, Mary, pay closer attention, you shite friend,” Marlene scolded, before casting a glance down at her watch. “Best get a move on to class, I think, if we want to get seats close enough to see Potter’s arse when he’s writing on the blackboard.”

“ _Marlene_!” Mary exclaimed, before falling into a fit of giggles. Still, she rose alongside Marlene and threw her bag over her shoulder.

Lily could have cursed them both for even jokingly putting this idea back into her head.

“I blame you for how thoroughly this conversation has dissolved, Charlie,” she said as she stood up.

Charlie rolled his eyes, clearly attempting to balance amusement plus whatever small resentment Lily thought he felt for the professor. He followed the girls as they left the Gryffindor table and fell into step with Lily once they crossed into the Entrance Hall.

“So, what do you say? Any interest in joining me for the match tomorrow?”

She nodded, planting a smile on her face. “Sure, Charlie. That sounds like a good time. I dunno how effective I will be at scouting, but I’ll give it a go.”

Charlie rubbed his left hand over the back on his neck before clearing his throat. “It’ll be great.”

“Not as good as watching Gryffindor though,” she said, a small coy smile lifting her lips.

He grinned happily back at her. “Fair point.”

Lily tried to hold onto that feeling as they walked through the castle. The feeling of _control_ , of not being in over her head which she had felt frequently when in James’ presence lately. But this notion almost became comical as she entered the Defense classroom. Her eyes traveled to the desk behind which James sat and that’s where her thoughts remained.

***

The soft white snow that greeted James on his run the following morning was a welcome, quiet greeting from what he was beginning to see as his past life. It didn’t seem long ago — though, it was growing further away with every passing day — that he was the one waking up on a Saturday morning, vibrating with excitement for a match. Though it was a match that he would star in, not one that saw him on the sidelines.

Based on his memory, he’d only played three matches in the snow during his playing career. It added its own level of difficulties, not the least of which were visibility issues and keeping warm enough to avoid hypothermia. He made a mental note to remind Hutchins, the Ravenclaw team captain, of this. He anticipated a cheeky if not cocky response from the seventh year, who often considered himself above critique with, in Hutchins’ own words, his strong intellect and astute attention to detail. But that didn’t matter, as long as he also took care of his teammates, in particular the young set of beaters who were from third and fourth year and would likely not have the skills or knowledge to cast the charms on themselves.

The snowflakes started coming down in large, fluffy droves. James paused his run just long enough to pull his wand out and cast a repelling charm on his face. He wasn’t particularly adept at most charms but found if he concentrated on only keeping his face and glasses clear, he usually could do so successfully. As the snowflakes began coating his hair, he decided it was time to cut his run short and changed his path away from the Black Lake, instead heading toward the castle.

He hadn’t caught up on his sleep from the end of the school week. The night he last had detention with Lily, specifically. He’d spent too long at the Three Broomsticks with his friends, again talking strategies for stealing the notebook. He couldn’t properly vocalize to Remus how he knew the notebook would provide the answers he was searching for. He just _knew_. Remus, the ever-supportive friend, acquiesced after a short time, joining in their discussion easily. Sirius provided many colorful ideas for the diversion James needed. He drew from their Hogwarts years, and James had to throw out most of them based on his position as a professor alone.

Ultimately, they hadn’t come up with a fool-proof idea for James, despite their best efforts. James supposed it would be one of those scenarios that would become clearer to him sooner than later. He also knew he wouldn’t get away with it if he made a rash, split-second decision. He needed a real diversion, something that captured all of Lily’s attention while he replaced the notebook in her bag with a fraud. There was something poetic about a fraud for a fraud when Remus had suggested the idea.

Despite the lack of a plan, James didn’t consider the evening fruitless. Though he’d come to regret it in a way when he was trudging through the crisp grounds back toward the castle later that evening. A walk in which he’d seriously contemplated asking the owner of the Hogs Head to allow his classroom fireplace to connect to his through the Floo Network. He knew _that_ would truly be a fruitless effort, as the barkeep would not take kindly to the request when James and his friends did not often patron his bar. Sirius had a strong preference for the Three Broomsticks, and besides, the food was certainly preferable there than whatever could be consumed at the Hogs Head. Which left James walking to and from the castle in a state of exhaustion that he had not fully recovered from, in no small part due to the restless evening to follow.

He had begun replaying all of her words through his mind again and again. He was still fairly confident the angle of her story had something to do with Slughorn or potion ingredients in particular. How Snape played into it, James was morbidly curious to know. It took him a moment to remember her admission that she hadn’t seen Snape in _ages_. In ages, was it? Then how did he recognize her instantly? She’d said they had lived in the same neighborhood for a time, but that would have been so long ago that she might not have seen Snape in anywhere from five to ten years. How would he be able to see her after all that time and recognize her immediately? (And, Merlin, if the slimy git didn’t relish in looking at her. That much had been obvious to James after only two minutes of seeing them together.)

There were many different scenarios James could see. Snape assisting with some sort of investigation into Slughorn seemed the least likely. Could he have trained her in Potions before she enrolled, just to keep her in Slughorn’s good graces? It also seemed doubtful. She appeared naturally inclined to potions, intuitive even. Unlike him, James, as she rightly pointed out months previously.

These thoughts carried James closer to the castle. His now jogging pace brought him to the first step of stone as opposed to dirt, and then his stomach dropped as though he missed a step while ascending. She’d said she hadn’t spoken to Snape about him at all. But what if…like everything else, that was a _lie_?

What if _Snape_ was the source for all the similarities they appeared to share? He wouldn’t put it past Snape to jump at the opportunity to mess with him in any circumstance.

Then, an even worse thought — a horrible, unthinkable, debilitating thought — popped into his mind and stopped him in his tracks in the middle of his ascent to the castle front doors.

_Remus_.

Snape knew about Remus, knew because of an absolutely idiotic joke Sirius pulled when they were stupid kids. Snape was sworn to secrecy then, but there was _nothing_ to stop him now. What if he told Lily that one of James’ closest friends was a werewolf? A writer for the _Prophet_ knowing that? She could out him anywhere. And what if _that’s_ why she mentioned the newly proposed legislation? Just to rile him up, earn his trust…

_No._ No, she wouldn’t. _Wouldn’t she_? Oh, how he wished he knew.

He pushed himself out of his thoughts, determined to not make assumptions, knowing that all would be revealed if he could get his hands on some evidence. Continuing his pace toward his classroom, he forced himself to think about Quidditch again. He had a little time to take a quick shower before he had plans to meet up with the Ravenclaw team before the match.

Twenty minutes later, clean and clad in a comfortable, warm jumper and cloak, James made his way back through the corridors toward the Great Hall. Unlike normal Saturdays, students were already traipsing into the Great Hall in droves, the excitement for Quidditch evident even in Gryffindor and Slytherin houses.

James sent greetings as he carried himself between the rivaling Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables. He only spared a moment to say hello to Hagrid, before pocketing his newly delivered _Prophet_ and grabbing a couple of slices of bacon and toast. He kept his eyes trained on the Ravenclaw table, where Hutchins and team were easy to spot, not even because of their uniforms, but because they were surrounded by revering looks that James was all too familiar with from his own time as a student.

“Hutchins, morning. Good morning everyone. Ready for the match today?” A scattering of agreement met his ears from Quidditch player and non alike. Hutchins stood as James approached him. “Heading down to the locker-rooms now? It would be good to check out the weather conditions.”

James was surprised to find Hutchins easily agreed, without snide commentary.

“All right, you lot. Grab whatever you can eat while we walk. Locker-rooms now.”

James fell into stride with Hutchins and the duo led the rest of the team from the table and across the hall. Feeling eyes on him, James looked around the hall until he saw Lily, of course. She was facing McKinnon as though listening with rapt attention to what her friend was saying, but her eyes located him and watched as he continued his stride-for-stride pace with Hutchins. Her eyes flew away from him just as Hutchins started talking about useful spells to combat heavy snowfall. A small smile spread to James’ face — pretty good attention to detail, Hutchins had.

***

For the first time since James became a professor, he ascended the rickety wooden steps that led to the Gryffindor bleachers. He arrived at the top quickly, as the match was about to start and he met no straggling students as he climbed. He surveyed the stands, eyes pausing only for the smallest moment when he saw Lily, Mary on one side, and Charlie on the other. James climbed the next set of stairs until he reached the furthest row in the bleachers. There were a small number of disinterested sixth year girls sitting there, and they waved brightly to him as he joined the row.

“Morning,” he called, before sitting at the far end of the row, alone.

From where he was, he could see Charlie’s head which raised high above the other students behind him. Charlie leaned down to say something to the red-haired girl next to him, though from this distance James couldn’t begin to guess what he was saying.

Suddenly the crowd erupted into cheers, jostling James from his thoughts and forcing him to watch the match.

It was the most difficult time James ever had watching Quidditch. He usually spent the match paying close attention for a final debriefing session he did with the captain following it.

Yet every time there was a lull in action — and even times when there was _not_ — his eyes went back to Charlie and Lily. And every time he looked, he thought Charlie was leaning in close again to say something else to her. It carried on this way for quite some time, the cyclical dance James couldn’t seem to pull himself out of. It became even more increasingly difficult as Ravenclaw went ahead. Hutchins, who played keeper, was on top of his game today, and James highly suspected the strong warming spell he’d recommended for not only Hutchins’ hands but _also_ his gloves, appeared to be keeping his fingers nimble. Regardless of what the seasoned Hufflepuff chasers attempted, they struggled to get anything past him.

By the time it all was said and done, Ravenclaw came away with a very dominant victory. James was interested to see how Gryffindor would match up against Ravenclaw, and he was even _more_ excited that he would not be involved with the strategizing or be providing any type of assistance for either team.

James leaned casually against the back wall of the bleachers as the Gryffindors poured out of the stands, talking excitedly about the end of the match. He kept his face impassive as he watched on, but it wasn’t until the crowd had cleared that he saw that two had remained behind. Charlie and Lily were still directly in front of him, though they were still far enough away that even with the raucous crowd gone James couldn’t hear them. The two looked deeply involved in a conversation about something. He couldn’t draw his eyes away from them, as much as he knew he should.

He forced himself to remove the _Prophet_ from his cloak pocket, and pretended to casually read it as he watched the pair.

Charlie said something, a wide self-important grin on his face as he towered over her. She responded with something just as hilarious and clever as she usually did, James suspected, because Charlie immediately burst into a fit of laughter that threw his head back. When he regained his composure, he took a small step closer to Lily. James couldn’t tear his eyes away as his subconscious caught on to what his conscious mind was too slow to.

Charlie reached forward, tucking the loose wavy strands of dark red hair through his fingers. Then he started bending downward — James watched on, as if he were watching a Wronski Feint attempt on a broomstick with malfunctioning breaks, unable to look away — but just as his nose was level with hers, Lily backed away, turning her face.

James let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as Charlie swiftly began walking away. Lily took a tentative, half-step forward, calling after him, but then stopped, brushing her hand down the side of her face. James placed the paper back into his cloak pocket once Charlie was out of sight. He slowly descended the stairs, hands tucked casually in his pockets as he drew closer to her. Her back was to him as she gazed toward the area where Charlie had disappeared.

He gave it only the sparest thought before he approached her, reaching out to tap her shoulder. “Evans—”

She spun around at the sound of her name, a hand immediately flying into her pocket. He caught her wrist between his fingers as her hand shot upward, wand secure in her grasp.

“Easy, Evans. ‘S just me.”

“Sorry,” she breathed out.

A small gust of wind kicked up around them and Lily’s knit cap started sliding off her head. Instinctively, he reached out his free hand to hold it in place. Lily’s loose waves flew around her, framing her face in crashing swirls of fire. He realized he was standing nearly as close to her as Charlie had been mere moments before, but his feet stayed rooted. Lily’s bright eyes, glowing in contrast to the snow that was starting to fall again, surveyed his face. When they crossed over his lips, she bit her bottom lip and for a split second, he thought she leaned closer to him. When he realized that _he_ was staring at her lips, he quickly withdrew, hands dropping to his sides. The sudden movement seemed to awaken Lily as well, and James got the distinct impression that if her face wasn’t already red from the cold that it would be growing red now from embarrassment.

“Sorry,” she said, her soft apology hardly discernible over the wind.

“All right, Evans?” he asked, tentatively. “Your friends seem to have left you.”

She twisted the wand still in her hands, no longer meeting his eye. “I’m all right. I can catch up to them.”

“It looks like we’ll be getting a fair bit of snow, you ought to head inside.”

She nodded, tucking her wand back into her pocket. “Do you normally stay behind to ensure all the students return to the castle?”

“Generally, no. We depend on prefects and the Head students to keep track of such things,” he said, as the wind picked up in another quick burst, swirling the snow directly into his face, rendering his glasses useless.

“Here,” she said, reaching out to stop his hand from pulling the glasses off his face. He froze at her touch as if petrified. Just a moment later, his glasses cleared and her wand, which was pointed directly into his face, came into focus. “That should help with the snow.”

“Thanks,” he said, painfully aware that her small gloved hand was still pressed to his. She finally understood what had given him pause and quickly yanked her hand away. He cleared his throat. “Well, I should be heading to the locker-rooms now, I suppose.”

“The locker-rooms?” she repeated as he walked past her, out of the row and to the aisle that had the stairwell.

When he looked behind, she was following, though not _too_ closely behind, thankfully. “Yes. I have an appointment with the Ravenclaw team to discuss their performance today.” He turned back around and began descending the stairs.

“Oh,” she said, still a couple of steps behind him.

Suddenly, James heard a groaning expletive come behind him and he spun to find Lily lose her footing. Instinctively he reached out to steady her, hands locking around her waist, unwittingly pulling her into him as he absorbed her momentum. Now two steps down the stairs, James realized they were nearly nose-to-nose, her green eyes wide in alarm, or embarrassment, or shock perhaps, whatever it was didn’t seem to matter. What mattered more was that he _was not letting her go_. His eyes traveled over her face, close enough now to see the trail of freckles on her nose and cheeks; the swirling wind still threw her loose hair around and with each small gust the ends of the red locks caressed his cheeks. Her hands were clamped down on his shoulders, though she was shivering, likely from the cold.

“Ice,” she murmured after a moment.

The sound of her voice, the curve of her lips — so close, _too_ close — moving to make the word, was what finally awoke him, like an electric shock through his entire body. He slowly released his arms from around her before sliding his hands up along her forearms until she pried her hands off of him. When he was sure enough that she wasn’t going to slip he let go of her arms completely and backed down to the next step below him for good measure.

“Careful there. The rest of the steps should be clear of ice for now.”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “Why don’t you go ahead? I’ll just be a moment. I can manage.”

James paused, hand poised over the railing as he prepared to continue his journey. Without looking back at her — for some reason he could not quite identify, he did not want to see her face at this moment — he nodded and muttered a quiet note of agreement before leaving.

***

Lily felt she should have known by now to expect that she would make an arse out of herself in front of James at any available opportunity. Just when she was lulled into a false sense of security about it, something happened that smacked her down again, brought her back into reality, at least _her_ reality. A reality that appeared to be mocking her, antagonizing her, more each passing day. Pushing her close, even _physically_ close, to someone she knew deep in her bones that she _wanted_. She knew equally deeply in her mind that she would never have him.

Naturally, the universe had to keep teasing her. Showing her again and again what could not be.

After the Quidditch match, she holed herself up in her dormitory for several reasons, not the least of which was _Charlie_ who she had forgotten about until she returned to the common room and saw he was pointedly ignoring her. At least in that scenario, at least in a small way, she knew she had done the right thing in her refusal to kiss him. One day he would understand why she hoped.

But seeing him after the soul-crushing, feelings-affirming moment in James’ arms proved too much. She retired for the evening after failing to satisfy Mary and Marlene’s queries as to _why_ Charlie was suddenly as frigid as the weather. She threw herself onto her bed, barely stopping herself from screaming into her pillow. For a moment, the idea of answering either of the outstanding letters from Caradoc or Severus crossed her mind but she could think of fewer things she wanted to do less. And frankly thought a lot about one thing she wanted to do more.

The snow fell steadily overnight and then stopped abruptly the next morning, which arrived with a blaze of blinding sunlight that reflected off the white blanket that covered everything. She seriously contemplated skipping breakfast and barricading herself in her dormitory to avoid any chance of running into Charlie, but ultimately forced herself to put a brave face on. She’d need the practice before her extra lesson with James later in the day.

She was pleasantly surprised at her ability to mask her emotions and channel how she would expect a seventeen-year-old girl to act in this circumstance. She met Charlie’s cordial hello with one of her own and then sat quietly, barely listening to whatever Mary was saying. She relaxed a bit when Charlie and his friends left the Gryffindor table until Mary and Marlene accosted her again and she was forced to tell them what happened at the bleachers after the Quidditch match. At least, what happened with Charlie.

“Why?”

“Why wouldn’t you _want_ to kiss him, more like?”

Lily shrugged, considering heading down to one of the greenhouses and feeding herself to a venomous tentacula. _That_ sounded less painful than this conversation. “I’m…” She stopped herself from surveying the staff table. “It’s not what I want.”

Then as if divinely orchestrated the owl post came and delivered the _Prophet_. The main headline on the front of the paper lifted her spirits more than anything she had read in _weeks_ and carried her through the rest of the day. 

She watched the day inch by with impatient eyes and frequent looks at her wristwatch. Forgetting the embarrassment she felt from the day before, she wanted to run down to the Defense class when the time came. Instead, she forced herself to keep a calm, dignified pace as she strolled along the corridors.

Regardless of that, her stomach still somersaulted at the sight of him as she ducked into the room. And there was no hiding her jovial tone as she greeted him. “Good afternoon! Did you see the _Prophet_ today?”

“Hello, Evans,” he said, and he sounded tired to her ears. He remained seated behind his desk. “I haven’t had a chance to yet, no. Why?”

“They finally broke the stalemate on the Wizard Protection Act and it’s been voted down!” 

He blinked, confused before reaching for the still folded _Prophet_ on his desk. She waited impatiently, wound like a spring just waiting to uncoil. She could see James’ eyes scouring the paper, as if in disbelief.

“Incredible,” he said in a soft voice. “Thank Merlin.” He raked a hand through his hair, more than just happiness appearing on his face. Relief, she thought. Her heart soared for him. He finally peered up from the parchment, a smile brightening his face. “Just great news, Evans. It lends well to what I planned for us to review today.”

He stood up from his desk and walked around to meet her, though she noticed he did not get too close to where she lingered. She opened her mouth to speak further, to share joy in this likely short-lived victory, but he cut her off. “I planned for us to cover a rather advanced defensive charm for this lesson: The Patronus Charm. You’ll have to forgive me if I insult your intelligence but I plan to reeducate all the students on this charm.” When she said nothing, he went on. “The Patronus Charm is difficult to conjure – there are many fully educated wizards who can perform only a non-corporeal Patronus or even nothing at all. The charm takes a very strong memory or feeling of happiness to cast; something that will be strong enough to counteract the suffocating nature of dementors. Have you ever succeeded in casting this charm, Evans?”

For once, Lily didn’t have to lie. It happened with such rarity that she could remember the truthful moments much easier than all the lies. She had only succeeded in creating a mist-like shield while learning the charm at Beauxbatons. She shook her head.

“Well, let’s see if some practice won’t help in allowing you to achieve this. Wand out, please.” He settled himself on a nearby desk as he spoke. “Think of the happiest you have ever been. Rid your mind of _all_ other thoughts.”

“What kind of thoughts would you recommend?” she asked, her eyes automatically closing as she tried to recall happy memories.

He paused, and though she couldn’t see him, she imagined he was considering what to say. “Adventure – moments where I pushed myself and succeeded. Friendships. Quidditch. The first time I arrived at Hogwarts. My parents sitting in the stands at my first Quidditch match. The time I made my friend Peter laugh so hard that pumpkin juice burst from his nose and we had to take him to the hospital wing.”

She laughed as she envisioned these things she had never known, these people she had never met. Then she remembered the moment her parents discovered she was a witch, their pride soared through her veins with every beat of her eleven-year-old heart.

“Got something?”

“Mhm,” she breathed, focused on the memory of her father’s face, the delight and laughter and glee as he considered all his daughter might become.

“ _Expecto Patronum_ ,” James instructed.

“ _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

The familiar mist of a Patronus met her eyes as she opened them. James looked on with interest.

“That is an excellent start. But I think with a happier memory you can achieve a corporeal form.” He stood up from the desk and moved two steps closer to her. “While you consider another more powerful memory, I will review more facts about the Patronus Charm.

“It takes on the form of an animal which is different for each person who casts it. Wizards throughout history have tried to study this phenomenon. They have deduced that there is a correlation between the animal and the personality of the caster. There have been recorded incidents where the form of a wizard’s Patronus changes, but decades of research have not linked a true cause yet. There is some debate that although Patronus forms can change, the form itself is a representation of the caster’s soul.” He paused as he dragged a chair away from a desk and casually sat down, still looking expectantly at her. “This might be beyond the scope of what is relevant for your NEWTs, but I find it fascinating and rather telling. When you achieve your corporeal form, I hope you will take time to reflect on who you _truly_ are and what your form says about you.”

She had learned about the Patronus charm during her time in school, but these thoughts never crossed her mind.

“What are some of the reasons they have learned that can make a Patronus change form?” she asked.

“An intense trauma, of course. Love, new love. Perhaps the presence of that new person brings about the change, or perhaps that person _becoming_ the focus of the caster’s happy memory, impacts the form of the Patronus conjured.”

“Fascinating,” she said. Her eyes had closed again during his answer. “So, have they considered the idea that these charms, should they truly reflect the caster’s soul, compliment soul mates?”

He didn’t answer immediately. “Well, I suppose that would raise interesting debates on whether soul mates _exist_ …”

“Of course,” she ceded, opening her eyes again. He was still leaning back in the chair, arms folded across his chest as though waiting for her to go on. “But that would be one way to study it. Studying couples who have corporeal Patronuses, seeing if that is reflected in their forms.”

“It is…possible, I suppose,” he said clinically, making her quite aware there was not much more he was inclined to add.

She almost blushed from embarrassment. _Of course_. “Sorry. I don’t mean to get us side-tracked.”

“That’s all right. Should I give you another moment to think of a new memory?”

She nodded, closing her eyes again. The last time she recalled immense joy was finding out from Caradoc that she had been offered this assignment. Granted, it wasn’t glamorous, and she had not expected to explore the angle she was currently being _told_ to write. But the fact remained that this was what she had worked for, what she wanted out of her career. And without this assignment, she never would have met _him_.

Suddenly, she said: “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

A large silvery doe burst from her wand, and her eyes flew open in shock. It cantered around her, a silvery glow trailing behind it as it ran. Her jaw dropped in awe, but she didn’t see James’ do the same. Finally, its canter slowed to a simple trot before the doe disappeared without any trace. If she hadn’t witnessed it, she would have never believed it herself.

“That was _brilliant_!” she said with true excitement. She had not achieved much during her second attempt at seventh year, at least nothing compared to what she did at Beauxbatons. But this? This was an extraordinary achievement that she knew was shining through on her smiling face. She looked around at James and discovered that he had risen from the chair at some point.

“I – I – err yes, Evans, well done! Well done.”

“Thank you,” she said, too elated at her success to notice the color had drained from his face. “I couldn’t have done it without you!”

“Oh, I’m sure… of course… certainly you would have,” he muttered. She finally gave him a proper look, and he now appeared queasy. “Well done. Look, Evans, I’ve just remembered – I have something I need to do. Quite urgent. I must cut the lesson short.”

“Oh!”

“Yes. I do apologize, I’d forgotten.”

“That’s quite all right,” she said, now crashing down from her high, for a reason she knew had nothing to do with the lesson itself. “Should I… should I go, then?”

“Yes,” he said evenly, though he still looked a little off to her. “I have another appointment. Must go also.”

“Okay.” She stowed her wand in her robe pocket as she walked hesitantly toward the door. He lingered a good distance behind her as she reached for the handle. “I guess… I’ll see you tomorrow in detention?”

“Yes. Have a good evening.”

***

Without a backward glance at her, he closed and locked his classroom door and took off down the hallway. He all but ran to the fourth-floor corridor, throwing open the door to an unused classroom and nearly slamming it shut behind him. In his haste, he fumbled with the mirror he was extracting from his pocket and nearly dropped it.

But just before he spoke, “Sirius Black!” he paused. What would he say? That he saw Lily’s Patronus and now he couldn’t help but wonder if she was his soul mate?

_Soul mate_. He didn’t even _believe_ in soul mates.

He forced himself back off the ledge, forced himself to stop thinking about the doe he had just seen cantering around his classroom.

He _would_ mirror Sirius, he decided then, but it would be to talk about the latest news about the Wizard Protection Act, and nothing more. He strode from the room, back to his classroom, resolve building with each step.

Unfortunately, the distraction that came in the form of his friends was not long-lived. The memory of the doe and the discussion that preceded it came back with renewed fervor in James’ mind seemingly the moment he tucked the mirror away. He spent the entirety of the next day actively avoiding the map. It felt _different_ somehow. Watching her move about the castle, seeing the little dot with her name scrawled next to it. _Her_ in ink form. Wild red hair, piercing green eyes, clever and charming wit.

Words kept creeping into his mind, seeping through it during inopportune moments: He, a stag. She, a doe.

_Soul mates_.

The idea kept nagging him, even between the busiest day of his week, which left him nearly skipping dinner to distract himself. Quarter to an hour before Lily’s detention was due to start, James cozied himself at his desk, the roaring hearth behind him _finally_ lulling him into a comfortably calm state as he half-heartedly listened to a Quidditch program on the wireless. He didn’t often tune in to this particular program, which consisted of two retired players discussing current league outlooks, arguing, and speaking over each other throughout the entire broadcast. If he wanted to have such discussions, he would just mirror Sirius. However, some evenings, such as this one, they were less volatile and it was not a drag to tune in.

Then suddenly, the petite form of Mary Macdonald knocked on his open classroom door. “Professor?”

James sat up straighter at his desk, beckoning her forward with a wave of his hand and a simple, “Yes, Miss Macdonald?”

Mary’s eyes swept the classroom as she walked in, giving James the impression she was looking for something. Or someone.

“Sorry to bother you, sir. I am trying to find Lily.”

James’ stomach clenched at this. Mary stopped just in front of his desk, and it was only then he became aware that she looked stricken. “She’s not here,” he answered simply. He did not know how much Mary knew about Lily’s detentions. He hoped and presumed nothing, as he had kept his word and kept these detentions off the “books”.

“Professor, I haven’t seen Lily since before dinner. She said she had some studying to do and ran off during our free period. I didn’t think much of it at the time because she’s always running off doing her own thing. Marlene and I reckon she likes her alone time after spending so much time schooled at home. Anyway, when she didn’t turn up at dinner, we went back to Gryffindor tower and she wasn’t there either.” Mary’s voice grew thicker the more she spoke and James thumbed the wireless off without breaking eye contact. “She mentioned she’d been doing extra studying with you and Professor Slughorn for her career aspirations, so I came here.” Mary swiftly wiped at the corner of her eye.

James cleared his throat, hand itching to dive into his desk drawer and look at the map. “I’m sure she’s fine, Miss Macdonald.” Mary crossed her arms, doubtfully, as he quietly opened the drawer. When he looked back over at Mary, she was pointedly staring away from him, whether from anger at his reaction or in an attempt to stifle her tears, James didn’t know. Nor really, did he care. But he took the opportunity to pluck the map out of the drawer. His eyes traveled instantly to a dot labeled _Lily Evans_ , which was unmoving and alone in the Potions’ classroom. He cleared his throat again as he stood and pocketed the map in one motion. “Perhaps she fell asleep in the library? Why don’t you go check there? I’ll check with Professor Slughorn and some of the other professors.”

Mary studied him for a moment before acquiescing with a short nod. “Thank you, Professor.”

James waved away her thanks and then followed her from the room, not bothering to grab his cloak or lock his classroom door. He purposefully kept his gait casual, as if he were merely going for a stroll as Mary hurried ahead of him. She only turned back to look at him once she started down the corridor that led to the entrance of the library. He continued down the steps, now increasing his stride as he neared the dungeons. He jogged down the dark, dingy stairwell, deeper and deeper into the dungeons, recalling the last time he was down there and had listened to Lily interrogate Slughorn.

When he arrived at the corridor with the classroom, he slowed his stride once more. The lanterns lighting the hallway were subdued and he lit his wand to compensate. He paused just outside the door again to take another glance at the map. _Lily Evans_ remained the only dot in the classroom, and the nearest to it _James Potter_. He pressed the door open and his heartbeat immediately sped up when he was met with even greater darkness than the corridor, the only light in the room spilling out of his raised wand.

“Evans?” he called, surprised at how steady his voice sounded. His conscious mind didn’t understand his nerves — what was he worried about, anyway? An ambush? Without thinking, he flicked his wand rapidly lighting a dozen candles and lanterns surrounding the room as he strode further into it. The desks and stools became visible, but they were all empty. “Evans?”

He wove through the desks, heart-pounding faster now as he went directly to the far corner of the room where he thought she should be. He was near the further desk when he finally saw her: a mass of red splayed out on the floor. “Evans!”

He threw himself onto the ground near her, ignoring the shooting pain as his knees landed on the stone floor, his still lit wand falling from his hands as he reached her. “Fuck.” He twisted around to get his wand again, tucking it between his teeth as he leaned down and shook her shoulder, not nearly as gently as he should have. “Evans!” He braced himself on the floor as he scooted closer, and when he lifted his hand again it was wet, stained red. “Merlin, fuck. Fucking hell. _Lily_.” His hand shook slightly as he tucked the hair away from her face, and it was only then he could see a cut along her forehead. He swore again, grabbing his wand out of his teeth to summon a rag from the storage room. With the reflexes that would make any seeker envious, he snagged the cloth out of midair and pressed it to her wound.

He finally dared check for a pulse and let out a shaky breath of relief when he located one easily near her throat. Tucking his wand back in his trousers, he carefully scooped her up. She was light and cold in his arms, head lulling to and fro slightly as he shifted her into a more secure cradle. Once he was certain of his hold, he spun on his heel and marched quickly out of the dungeon. As carefully as he could, he raced through the corridor, before realizing with an annoying surge of anger that he’d likely have to move sideways up the tight stairwell. He did so with as much poise as he could manage, knowing the last thing she needed was to be dropped or knocked around further.

When he finally reached the Entrance Hall, he increased his pace to a jog.

“Potter!” a loud voice called.

James growled to himself as he halted. “Horace—”

“What in Merlin’s—what’s happened? Is that… Miss Evans?!”

“Horace, find Professor McGonagall and tell her to meet me in the Hospital Wing urgently. Then you ought to go secure your classroom.”

“My—my classroom? You don’t mean to say—”

“Merlin, Horace. I _do_ mean to say. Go. _Now_.”

Without a backward glance at the now-sputtering professor, James redoubled his pace, not letting up until he kicked open the door to the infirmary.

“Poppy!” he called, panting slightly from the combination of Lily’s weight, the jogging pace, and a weight that had settled in his stomach at some point when he was in the dungeon. He ignored the pain in his knees. “ _Poppy!_ ”

The matronly Healer peaked her head out of her office as if unsure who was interrupting whatever her post-supper leisure activity was. As James drew closer, she bustled out of her office and raced to his side.

“What in Merlin’s name has happened?”

Without waiting for any directive, James gently sat Lily down on the nearest bed.

“I’d like to know that myself,” came another sharp voice from behind them. James forced his eyes away from Lily, whom Pomfrey was already tending to with urgency.

“Minerva,” James greeted, wiping his brow as he turned to face her. He realized a moment too late that there was still blood staining his hand. He cleared his throat, which suddenly felt very tight and dry, before briefly explaining how Mary Macdonald told him she hadn’t seen Lily in hours, how Mary knew Lily had increased her studies in Potions in preparation for her career aspirations. James kept his voice level as he explained all he noticed and saw in the dungeons, which admittedly was not much.

“My goodness,” Professor McGonagall said, now moving closer to Lily. James finally allowed himself to look back at her. Pomfrey had cleared the blood off of her and was in the process of bandaging her head. “Was she cursed, Poppy?”

“No traces of any Dark Magic from what I can tell, Minerva. She’s been Stunned, though. I will need more time to evaluate how much blood she has lost, but I suspect to be safe I will give her a replenishing potion when she wakes.”

“You won’t wake her?” James asked sharply. If either woman considered his tone odd, they did not show it.

“Not with a head injury and not when her pulse is as strong as it is. Of course, I cannot say for certain, but I suspect when she was Stunned, she fell and that’s how she sustained the head injury.”

“And you’ve managed to stop the bleeding? Her—her skull is… intact?”

Pomfrey looked levelly back at him. “I’m well adept at mending skulls, James, as you may well remember from your time at school, reckless Quidditch player as you were.” James thought her lip twitched upward at this, but that did not placate him in the least.

“Horace at least had the sense to go secure his classroom,” Professor McGonagall informed them, and James kept his face impassive despite his internal annoyance. “I will go see it for myself. James, will you stay here in case Miss Evans wakes up in my absence?”

“I will. Minerva, you should consider sending word to Miss Macdonald and McKinnon. I’m certain they are likely more worried now than they were earlier.”

“Yes,” Professor McGonagall said with a short nod before she hastened from the room, her robes swishing behind her.

James stared at the door long after she had gone, hesitant to turn his eyes back to Lily as Pomfrey continued to bandage her. He generally didn’t consider himself a squeamish person. Certainly not with the number of injuries he and his friends self-healed over their years of full moon excursions. But for some reason, he could not stomach looking at Lily while Pomfrey prodded her with her wand.

At long last, though admittedly James had no sense of how much time had actually passed, Pomfrey left Lily’s side.

“She will be fine. A nasty headache to come, make no mistake. But nothing permanent, I am confident. A few potions and overnight observation and she will be fine.”

“Will she have any memory issues? Is she likely to remember who did this to her?”

“That’s nearly impossible to say with certainty, James. She may not have even seen them approach her.”

James nodded. He was fairly confident Lily would have been smart enough to position herself to notice if anyone else entered the classroom. But he knew better than most that there were ways to make oneself invisible.

“I’ll just make myself comfortable, shall I?”

He strode to the nearest bed and reached for a chair, but paused as he saw his hands again. Removing his wand from his pocket he repeated “ _Scourgify_ ” again and again until his hands were red no more.

“Poppy — still have that wireless floating around somewhere?”

Pomfrey paused, a small affectionate smile upturning her lips as she glanced back at him. “Same place as when _you_ were a frequent guest in my infirmary.”

James forced the easy-going grin he knew she expected of him before walking to the large cabinet by the door and extracting the wireless from it. He set it gingerly on the bedside table before lowering himself into the chair. He twisted the dial until it landed on a familiar voice — the announcer who usually called the Puddlemere matches — then turned the volume up a little higher and prepared to wait.

***

“ _Patel has the quaffle, he is miles ahead of MacAvoy now. Unbelievable dodge there! The bludger sent by Michaels just missed! Patel passes to Jones just as_ another _bludger is sent his way. Jones is headed straight for the left goalpost, McEnery has been favoring that side all game. Jones winds up — and! Merlin, unbelievable no-look pass to Patel who scores easily on the right post! McEnery didn’t see him coming—had absolutely no chance at it. And Puddlemere leads by seventy now.”_

Lily barely understood the words that were seeping into her skull between pulsating throbs of pain. Her arms felt heavy, as though constrained at her side. Equally heavy were her eyes. Finally, she found the strength to open them. She didn’t immediately recognize the foggy room as her eyes focused. Opening her clenched fists, she flexed her fingers before rubbing them along the crisp— _bed?_ underneath her. Examining her surroundings, she noticed the soft hum of the wireless next to her was spouting the still unintelligible words. Somewhere in her mind, she recognized it was Quidditch, but her mind couldn’t process the words even if she wanted it to.

Beyond the wireless, she finally noticed a person sat near her. He was leaning forward in a rather uncomfortable-looking chair, his chin propped on his hands, messy hair curling over the frames of the glasses perched on his ears.

_I must be dreaming_ she thought as she recognized who it was. She’d grown used to dreaming about him. _What a lovely dream. Listening to Puddlemere on the wireless with him_.

She allowed herself to stare at him, eyes roving over his profile, wishing she could concentrate more on the words. She supposed her subconscious could only do so much — and if it were a choice between envisioning him or making up Quidditch commentary, she’d wish for the former every time.

She let out a long exhale, another strong burst of pain in her skull causing her to wince. James turned sharply toward her.

“Lily,” he said, in a tone she couldn’t quite understand. Concern? Relief? That seemed unlikely. It was difficult to think through the pain. She watched as James stood up and moved closer to her. He reached a hand out, running gentle fingers down her cheek. _Merlin_. If it weren’t for this headache, she'd wish to be able to stay in this dream a while longer. “Evans. Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” she whispered, voice hoarse.

“Let me get you some water,” he said, voice soft as his hand fell away from her. “Poppy!” he called once he was out of sight. _What’s a poppy?_

She waited impatiently for dream James to return. Dream James who listened to Puddlemere matches with her. Dream James who touched her cheek, and fetched her water when she was parched.

But dream James wasn’t the first to return. It took her a moment to realize it was Madam Pomfrey now perched next to her. She certainly did _not_ expect the school Healer to appear in her dreams. Her stomach sank. This was _not_ a dream.

“Miss Evans. Can you tell me what you are feeling right now?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. She swore as a major surge of pain shot through her.

“Easy,” James said, reappearing now at her other side, a glass of water in his hand. “Keep still if you can.”

She stopped herself from nodding, keeping her eyes trained on Pomfrey. In her current state, she wasn’t sure she could force herself to look away from James if she allowed her eyes to find him now. “Pain. Throbbing headache.”

“To be expected, dear. You’ve sustained a head injury.”

She blinked. She _what_? Her stomach plummeted. What if she had…talked in her sleep? She tried to bury the thought, push it as far away as she could, but her splitting skull made the task all the more difficult.

“Do you remember what happened?” James asked from her left.

She swallowed, again stopping herself from shaking her head. “I—can’t— _think_.” She clenched her eyes shut.

“Can you do _anything_ for her?”

“Yes,” came Pomfrey’s short reply.

Lily felt the weight move away from the bed and almost opened her eyes once more to see if James had gone, too.

“You’re going to be fine,” he told her in a low voice. His proximity sent goosebumps down her arms. “Sustaining a brain injury just to get out of detention with me is another level move, Evans. Even my mates and I never stooped that low.”

_She was going to be fine_. No, she didn’t think she would be.

“Miss Evans,” Pomfrey’s voice said, and Lily forced her eyes back open. “You’ll need to drink two potions for me. Every last drop.”

“What…what…”

“What, child?”

“What are the potions?” James supplied. _Yes, that_.

“A tonic for your headache, which will also help you sleep. And a replenishing potion. You’ve lost a fair amount of blood. You’ll feel much better after.”

She blinked, brow furrowed. Blood? She’d lost _blood_.

“Bottom’s up,” James said—or was it _Professor Potter_ now?

She obliged, choking down the foul-tasting potions one after the other, with eyes clamped shut. When she opened them again, Pomfrey was walking away. James appeared in her line of vision, brandishing the water cup in front of her face.

“One more, then off to sleep.”

She nodded unthinkingly, a few tears escaping with a small whimper. She tried to raise her hand to take the glass from him, but it flopped back onto the bed. Suddenly, a warm hand — James’ hand — cupped her face and he gently brought the glass to her lips. Deep in her mind, she thought he had a tenderness, a gentleness that Pomfrey had not used when pouring the potions into her mouth.

She gulped down as much as she could, closing her eyes, before fading once more, the warmth still pressed against her cheek, thumbing away the tears.

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to the LOVELIEST person - theroomofreq, who not only beta read this but who is my biggest supporter. This may have stayed on my computer without your encouragement. <3
> 
> Tentative plans are to update this weekly on Fridays (hopefully).


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